LIBRARY 

OF  THC 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Received         jan     11  ]H93  - '^9 
Accessions  No.  Hqqi'^1.  .  Class  No. 


^n 


UBlMSr 


I 


ELEMENTS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 


BY 


NOAH   K.   DAVIS,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 

Peofessob  op  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University  op  Virginia 


E  coelo  descendit :  yvQ9i  (reavrSv 


^•^  OP  THB     ^« 


SILVER,   BURDETT   &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
New  York  BOSTON  Chicago 

1892 


EDUC. 

PSYCH. 

UBRARY 


GHT 

By  silver,  BURDETT   &  CO. 


Copyright,  1892, 


Typography  by  J.  8.  Cdshing  &  Co.,  Boston. 


Presswork  by  Berwick  &  Smith,  Boston. 


PREFACE. 


This  treatise  is  intended  primarily  for  those  who  have 
not  already  studied  psychology,  and  now  propose  to  give  it 
thoughtful  attention.  It  is  therefore  elementary,  as  its  title 
indicates,  and  is  introductory  to  the  abundant  and  growing 
literature  of  the  science.  Though  no  previous  acquaintance 
with  the  subject  is  requisite,  yet  as  it  can  by  no  means  be 
made  light  and  easy,  even  an  elementary  treatise  must  pre- 
suppose mental  maturity  in  the  reader,  and  habits  of  thought- 
ful study.  For  him  I  have  tried  to  prepare  a  statement  of 
psychological  doctrine,  broad  and  true,  on  which  he  may 
build  by  his  own  thinking  and  wider  reading.  If  his  occu- 
pations do  not  permit  this,  he  will  at  least  have  acquired  a 
rounded  knowledge  of  the  generally  approved  principles  and 
chief  features  of  the  science. 

A  reader  already  acquainted  with  the  history  and  litera- 
ture of  psychology  will  find  many  familiar  things  restated. 
Let  him  remember  that  the  treatise  is  for  the  novice.  But 
he  will  find  some  familiar  things  modified,  and  some  things 
new.  A  few  may  be  indicated  as  follows :  The  material 
object  immediately  perceived ;  the  argument  for  immediate 
perception ;  the  modified  view  of  intuition ;  the  argument 
for  duality ;  the  relation  of  feeling  to  cognition ;  the  char- 
acter and  place  assigned  to  belief ;  the  separation  of  feeling 


111 


iv  PREFACE. 

and  desire  ;  the  defence  of  freedom  in  willing.  On  these 
and  other  points  I  earnestly  ask  for  a  candid  and  critical 
judgment.  I  care  for  nothing  but  truth  in  the  matter,  and 
will  heartily  join  in  condemning  all  else. 

The  portion  calling  for  study  is  given  in  the  main  text. 
It  is  logically  developed,  with  exact  definitions  adhered  to 
throughout.  Into  the  many  marginal  notes  are  gathered 
citations  of  authorities  and  references  to  those  within  easy 
reach,  quotations  from  general  literature,  explanatory  re- 
marks, examples,  illustrations,  —  indeed,  all  sorts  of  items, 
some  of  them  mere  trifles,  the  general  intent  being  to  en- 
liven the  terse  and  dry  statements  thus  annotated. 

The  style  is  didactic.  Above  all  things,  I  have  tried  to  be 
accurate,  concise,  and  clear,  and  as  simple  as  possible.  It 
would  be  much  easier  to  write  learnedly  and  obscurely,  and 
so  be  judged  profound ;  but  I  am  willing  to  take  the  risk  of 
slight  esteem,  hoping  to  be  clearly  understood. 

The  matter  of  this  treatise  has  been  the  basis  of  my 
teaching  for  twenty  years,  with  modifications  and  additions 
from  time  to  time,  so  as  to  include  the  approved  results  of 
the  most  recent  investigations.  The  interest  which  my 
pupils  have  taken  in  the  subject,  and  the  general  favor 
which  has  been  shown  to  my  treatise  on  Logic,  entitled 
"The  Theory  of  Thought,"  encourage  the  hope  that  this 
work  also  may  be  found  useful. 


CONTENTS. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  INTRODUCTION. 

I.  The  Cephalic  Senses. 

PAGE 

§  1.    A  preliminary  physiological  view  needful 1 

§  2.    Logical  distribution  of  the  senses 1 

§  3.    Of  smell  —  its  organ  and  excitant 2 

§  4.    Its  relatively  sensuous  character 3 

§  5.     Its  percept,  odor,  a  quality  or  phenomenon  of  brain 4 

§  G.     The  percept  not  consciously  located 5 

§  7.    Of  taste  —  its  organ,  excitant,  sensuousness 5 

§  8.    Its  percept,  savor,  a  quality  or  phenomenon  of  brain 6 

§  9.    Analogies  of  smell  and  taste 7 

§  10.     Of  hearing  —  its  organ  and  excitant 7 

§  11.    Its  relatively  perceptive  character 8 

§  12.    Its  percept,  soimd,  a  quality  or  phenomenon  of  brain 8 

§  13.    The  percept  not  consciously  located 9 

§  14.    Binaural  audition  affords  proof  that  it  is  intercranial 9 

§  15.    Of  sight  —  its  organ  and  excitant 10 

§  IG.    Its  relatively  perceptive  charactei- 10 

§  17.    Its  primary  percept,  color,  a  cerebral  phenomenon 11 

§  18.    Binocular  vision  affords  proof 12 

§  19.    Its  secondary  percept,  extension.    The  field  of  view^ 13 

§  20.    Analogies  of  hearing  and  sight 14 

§  21.     The  immediate  object  in  perception 15 

II.  The  Somatic  Senses. 

§  22,    Of  touch  —  its  organ.    The  intermediary 17 

§  23.    The  sensation.    Its  primary  percept,  tangibility 18 

§  24.     Its  secondary  percept,  extension 19 

§  25.     Erroneous  views  concerning  touch 20 

§  26.     Of  muscular  sense  —  its  organ  and  stimulant 20 

V 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

§  27.  The  sensation.     Its  percept,  solidity 20 

§  28.  Illustrative  examples 21 

§  29.  The  sensus  vagus.    Temperature.     Pure  pain 23 

§  30.  No  knowledge  of  the  outer  world  given  by  sense  alone 25 

III.     The  Nervous  Organism. 

§  31.  The  sympathetic  system 26 

§  32.  The  cerebro-spinal  system  —  its  distribution 26 

§  33.  The  cerebral  nerves 27 

§  34.  The  spinal  cord  and  nerves 27 

§  35.  The  nervous  circuit 28 

§  36.  Neural  reilex  action 28 

§  37.  Muscular  dexterity  or  habit 29 

§  38.  Anatomy  of  the  brain 31 

§  39.  "White  and  gray  matter  —  its  distribution 31 

§  40.  Cerebral  localization 32 

§  41.  Unconscious  cerebration 33 

§  42.  Psychology  not  dependent  on  neurology 34 

IV.      PhT  SIC  LOGICAL   PSTCHOLOGT. 

§  43.  Comprehension  of  this  title 35 

§  44.  Historical  notices 36 

§  45.  P.sycho-physics.     Fechner'.s  law 37 

§  46.  Its  critics.     Results  summarized 39 

§  47.  Psychometry  —  its  methods  and  results 40 

§  48.  Limitations  of  physiological  psychology 42 

§  49.  Relation  of  pure  to  mixed  psychology 44 


PART  FIRST.  —  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

I.    Preliminary  Definitions. 

§50.    Psychology  defined.    Explication  of  terms 47 

§  51.     The  ego  and  non-ego ^2 

§  52.     Subject  and  object 53 

§  53.     Mental  powers  and  activities 55 

II.    Generality  of  Consciousness. 

§  54.    Consciousness  the  suminum  genus ^^ 

§  55.     Its  logical  content ^^ 


CONTENTS.  VU 


III.     CoNDlxroNS  OF  Consciousness. 

FAQB 

§  56.    Opposition,  a  condition  of  its  existence 59 

§  57.     Change,  a  condition  of  its  continuance 60 

§  58.     Law  of  relativity , 60 

§  59.     Shock  of  difference,  and  of  similarity 61 

IV.     Limits  of  Consciousness. 

§  60.    It  is  of  the  actual,  not  of  the  potential 62 

§  6L     Of  the  present,  not  of  the  past 62 

§  62.     Of  the  positive,  not  of  the  negative 63 

§  63.     Are  we  always  conscious  ? 63 

§  64.    Are  we  conscious  of  several  things  at  once  ? 64 

§  65.    Are  there  unconscious  mental  activities  ? 65 

V.    Facts  of  Consciousness. 

§  66.    Description  of  the  facts  of  consciousness 68 

§  67.     Their  essential  characters , 69 

§  68,    Their  enforced  acceptance 69 

§  69.     Their  distinguishing  criterion 70 

§  70.     Their  fundamental  importance 71 

VI.     Modes  of  Consciousness. 

§  71.    The  generic  powers.    Scheme 72 

§  72.     Cognition 73 

§  73.     Feeling 74 

§  74.     Desire 74 

§  75.     Volition 75 

§  76.    The  specific  powers.    Scheme 75 

§  77.     Unity  of  mind 75 

§  78.     Simultaneity  of  its  activities 76 


PAET  SECOND.  — IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

I.    Cognition. 

§  79.    Definition  and  division  of  cognition 77 

§  80.    Is  a  comparison  and  a  judgment 78 

§  81.     Conditions  the  other  powers 79 

§  82.    Attention  defined 79 

§  83.    Law  of  Limitation 80 

§  84.    Observation  and  reflection 81 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

§  85.    Indefinite  or  expectant  attention 82 

§  86.     Involuntary  attention.    Distraction 82 

§  87.     "Voluntary  attention.    Abstraction 83 

§  88.     Is  plural  attention  possible  ? 83 

§  89.    Tbe  sole  function  of  will.     Importance  of 85 

II.     Presentation. 

§  90.     Definition  and  division 87 

§  91.     The  object  given  to  consciousness 87 

§  92.     Representation  discriminated 88 

§  93.    Presentations,  many  ;  representation,  one 89 

§  94.    Illustrative  examples 89 

III.    Perception. 

§  95.    Definitions.    The  percept 91 

§  96.     Organs  of  sense  eliminated 91 

§  97.     Sensation  and  perception  set  apart 92 

§  98.    Data  of  perception  strictly  stated 93 

§  99.    Passivity  in  perception 94 

IV.    External  Reality. 

§  100.    Doctrine  of  immediate  perception 96 

§  101.    Argument  in  support  of 97 

§  102.     Replies  to  adverse  view 99 

§  103.    Perception  of  primary  qualities  of  body  requisite 100 

§  104.    Found  in  tactile  and  muscular  senses 100 

§  105.     Extra-organic  body  given  in  voluntary  movement 101 

§  106.     Outer  world  given  in  manipulation 103 

§  107.    Order  of  development  unknown 103 

V.  Self-Pekceition. 

§  108.    Definition.    Internal  sense 105 

§  109.     Distinguished  from  self-consciousness 105 

§  110.     Distinguished  from  perception 106 

§  111.    Subdivision.     Introspection.     Example 106 

§112.    Reflection,    Representative.     Postponed 107 

VI.  Pure  Intuition. 

§  113.     Intuitions  divided.    The  pure  defined 108 

§  114.    Examples  of  pure  ideas 109 

§  115.    They  are  abstract 110 


COJS'TENTS.  IX 

PAGE 

§  116.  They  are  catholic » Ill 

§  117.  They  are  self-evident ; Ill 

§  118.  They  are  certain 112 

§  110.  They  are  necessary.     Examples 113 

§  120.  They  are  strictly  universal 114 

§  121.  Three  kinds  of  general  truth 115 

§  122.  Catholicity  and  universality  distinguished 110 

§  123.  No  classification  effected 117 

VII.     Origin  of  Pure  Truth. 

§  124.  Questions  stated 118 

§  125,  Empiricism.     Locke  and  Mill 118 

§  126.  Reply  to  empiricism.     Syllogisms 120 

§  127.  Intuitionism.    Leibnitz 122 

§  128.  Kant.    Mansel 123 

§  129.  The  doctrine  restated 125 

§  130.  PrefeiTed  view.     Pure  truth  objective 126 

§  131.  Pure  ideas  representative 128 

§  132.  Objective  ground  of  necessity  and  universality 129 

§  133.  This  theory  distinct  from  empiricism 130 

§  134.  The  discussion  metaphysical 131 

VIII.     Mind  and  Matter. 

§  135.  Substance  intuitive.     Monism  and  Dualism ,  132 

§  136.  Idealism  —  its  various  forms 133 

§  137.  Idealists  self-contradictory 135 

§  138.  Materialism  —  its  creed 136 

§  139.  Its  doctrine  stated 137 

§  140.  Its  inconceivability  an  unsound  objection 138 

§  141.  Three  philosophic  objections 139 

§  142.  Absolute  identity  —  its  doctrine 141 

§  143.  Concomitant  variations  do  not  prove  it 142 

§  144.  Reduces  to  other  forms  of  monism 143 

§  145.  Dualism  —  its  doctrine  and  gi'ound 144 

§  146.  Proved,  as  opposed  to  idealism 145 

§  147.  Proved,  as  opposed  to  materialism 146 

§  148.  Mind  and  brain  correlated 148 

§  149.  Mind  not  related  to  space 148 

PART   THIRD.  —  MEDIATE   KNOWLEDGE. 

I.     Representation. 

§  150.     Definition.     Discriminated  from  presentation 150 

§  151.     Division.     Relations  of  condition 151 


§152. 

§  153. 

§  154. 

§  155. 

§156. 

§  157. 

§  158. 

§159. 

§160. 

§161. 

§162. 

§  163. 

§164. 

§  165. 

§  166. 

§167. 

§168. 

§  169. 

§170. 

§  171. 

§172. 

§  173. 

§174. 

§175. 

§176. 

§177. 

§178. 

§170. 

§180. 

§181. 

§182. 

§  183. 

§184. 

§185. 

§  186. 

§187. 

§188. 

§  189. 

CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The  medium,  an  object  perceived 152 

The  medium,  a  mental  image  or  idea 154 

Locality  merely  represented 155 

Mental  images  sensuous  —  from  exi^erience 155 

Ideas  always  representative  —  in  two  modes 157 

II.     Mediate  Perception. 

Distinguished  from  perception  proper 158 

Genesis  of  a  case 150 

Genesis  generally  stated  —  four  steps 159 

LiabiUty  to  illusion  and  error 160 

Eeview  of  the  fourth  step  in  the  genesis 161 

Perception  of  spatial  relations 162 

Unity  and  plurality  in  space 163 

Solidity  and  shape  of  outer  things 164 

The  direction  of  objects  in  space 167 

Direction  as  judged  by  hearing 168 

The  size  and  distance  of  objects 169 

Analysis  of  this  mediate  perception 170 

Perspective,  ground  and  aerial 172 

Location  of  tactile  percepts  on  the  body 173 

Location  of  sense-percepts  beyond  the  body 175 

III.     Suggestion. 

Sequence  of  mental  states  —  of  two  kinds 177 

Law  of  similarity  —  contraries 178 

Law  of  association  or  redintegration 179 

Order  in  association  —  loss  of  links 180 

Multiplicity  of  simultaneous  revivals 181 

Indissoluble  associations 182 

Wide  generality  of  this  law 183 

Law  of  preference.     Four  points 184 

The  associational  school  —  disapproved 186 

IV.     Memory. 

Definition.     Theory  of  repetition 187 

The  primary  judgment  intuitive 187 

The  secondary  judgment.     The  attendant  belief 188 

Based  on  suggestion 1 89 

Theory  of  mental  retention.     Two  objections 189 

Theory  of  physical  retention.     Supplementary 190 

Remembrance,  involuntary.     Subdivided 193 

Recollection,  voluntary.     Impelled  by  desire 194 

Cirrunistantial  and  philosophical.     Mnemonics 196 


CONTENTS.  xi 


V.      riWAGINATION. 

PAGE 

§  190.     Terms.     Definition.     The  ideal  object 198 

§  191.     Distinguished  from  memory 198 

§  192.     Limitations  of  imagination 199 

§  193.     Simple  imagination  —  two  forms 201 

§  194.     Complex  imagination,  constructive  and  plastic 202 

§  195.     Involuntary  imagination  or  phantasy.     Dreams 203 

§  196.     Concomitant  action  of  the  brain 204 

§  197.     Voluntary  imagination  —  subdivisions 207 

§  198.     The  artistic.     Fancy 207 

§  199.    Poetic  imagination 209 

§  200.     The  reflective.    Philosophic 209 

§  201.    Deliberative  imagination 211 

§  202.    The  practical.     Ideas  of  actions 211 

§  203.    Ideal  standards  of  actions 213 

VI.     Thought. 

§  204.    Definition  —  illustrated.    The  notion 216 

§  205.    Three  movements.    Abstraction 217 

§  206.     Abstract  terms 218 

§  207.     Generalization  219 

§  208.     Conception  —  particular  and  general 219 

§  209.     Denomination 221 

§  210.     Intension  and  extension  of  the  concept 222 

§  211.     Classification 223 

§  212.     Review.     Judgments  —  inductions  and  deductions 224 

§  213.     Relation  of  judgment  and  conception 225 

§  214.     Relation  of  thought  to  memory,  and  to  imagination 226 

§  215.     Intuitive  thinking 227 

§  216.     Symbolical  thinking 229 

§  217.     Test  of  symbolic  thought 2.30 

§  218.     Truth  —  its  definition,  and  its  criterion 231 

§  219.     Error —  limited  to  thought.     What  is  its  source? 234 

§  220.    Attributed  to  imagination 236 


PART   FOURTH.  — FEELING. 

I.     Characteristics. 

•§  221.  Correlation  of  cognition  and  feeling 239 

§  222.  Their  inverse  ratio 241 

§  223.  Change  requisite.     Law  of  accommodation 241 

§  224.  Novelty.     Familiarity  the  basis  of  memory 243 


Xll  C0^^  TENTS. 

PAGE 

§  225.    Desire  set  apart 244 

§  220.    The  consciousness  of  self- existence  found  in  feeling 245 

§  227.     Certainty,  belief,  and  doubt 247 

§  228.     Pleasure  and  pain.     Aristotle's  theory 249 

§  229.    Feelings  involuntary  —  their  mediate  control 252 

§  2.S0.     Diffusion  of  feeling  —  expression  and  organic  effects 253 

§  231.     Logical  distribution  —  scheme 25G 

II.     Sensation. 

§  232.     Correlation  of  perception  and  sensation 258 

§  233.     Sensations  attending  the  senstis  vagus 258 

§  234.    Those  of  the  sensus  jixus.    Muscular  sensations 260 

§  235.    Tactile  sensations 2G1 

§  236.    Odors  —  their  classes 261 

§  237.    Tastes  —  their  classes 262 

§  238.     Sensations  of  sound 264 

§  239.    Sensations  of  white  light,  color,  and  lustre 265 

III.     Emotion. 

§  240.    Temperament,  mood,  disposition 266 

§  241.     Characteristics  of  emotion 268 

§  242.    Wonder  and  its  cognates 269 

§  243.    Tear  —  its  causes  and  effects 270 

§  244.    Joy  and  sorrow  —  their  expression 272 

§  245.     Affectionate  emotions 273 

§  246.     Sympathy  —  its  objects.     Panic 274 

IV.     Sentiment. 

§  247.     Correlation  of  pure  intuition  and  sentiment 277 

§  248.     Sensuous  sejitiments.     Beauty  —  limitations 277 

§  249.     The  sublime,  the  picturesque,  and  the  ludicrous 280 

§  250.     Utility  —  distinct  from  beauty. 281 

§  251.     Pure  intellectual  sentiments  of  truth,  property,  etc 282 

§  252.     Those  of  honor,  trust,  and  pity 284 

§  253.     Those  of  self-esteem,  etc.  —  humiliation,  humility 286 

§  254.     Pure  ethical  sentiments  of  respect,  etc.  —  gratitude 287 

PART   FIFTH.  — DESIRE. 

I.     Its  Relations. 

§  255.     Definition.     Relation  to  cognition. 289 

§  256.     To  feeling  —  pleasure  and  pain 290 

§  257.     To  volition  —  correlative 293 

§  258.     Psychical  instinct 294 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

II.     Its  Kinds.  ^^^^^ 

§  250.     Logical  distribution  —  list  of  species 295 

§  260.     Appetites  —  marks  of,  with  examples 206 

§  261.     Appetences  —  illustrative  examples  in  detail 298 

§  262.     Affections  —  benevolent,  with  examples  in  detail 300 

§  263.    Affections  —  malevolent,  with  examples  in  detail 303 

III.     Its  Regulation. 

§  264.     The  conflict  among  desires 305 

§  265.     The  two  regulative  desires  —  how  harmonized 305 

§  266.     Their  relation  to  subordinate  desires 307 

§  267.     The  moral  impulse  conditioned.     Conscience 308 

PART   SIXTH.  — VOLITION. 

I.  Its  Relations. 

§  268.  Definition.     Contrasted  with  cognition 309 

§  269.  Its  double  relation  to  cognition 310 

§  270.  How  related  to  feeling  and  desire 311 

§  271.  Subjective  and  objective  control 311 

II.  Its  Elements. 

§  272.  Two  conditions,  and  three  elements 313 

§  273.  Choice  —  its  special  conditions,  and  essence 314 

§  274.  Intention  —  its  static  character 315 

§  275.  Effort  —  the  nisus  of  attention 316 

III.  Its  Freedom. 

§  276.    The  two  opposed  doctrines 318 

§  277.     Am  I  free  ?     Importance  of  the  question 318 

§  278.     An  objection  to  the  inquiry  retorted 320 

§  279.    The  presumption,  and  burden  of  proof 321 

§  280.     The  necessitarian  argument 321 

§  281.     The  reply  that  I  am  conscious  of  freedom 322 

§  282.     That  volition  is  exempt  from  causation 324 

§  283.     That  causality  is  modified  in  this  case ,  325 

§  284.     That  causation  does  not  apply  to  mind ^  327 

§  285.     That  free  agency  comports  with  subjective  necessity 329 

§  286.     A  critical  analysis  of  the  argument 332 

-§  287.     A  premise  corrected  in  form  and  denied 333 

§  288.     The  making  the  choice  distinct  from  the  choice  itself 334 

§  289.     The  choice  itself  is  not  a  change 335 

§  290.     The  necessitarian  argument  invalid 336 

§  291.     An  indirect  demonstration  of  freedom 337 

§  292.     The  conditioning  antecedents  of  choice 338 


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6eov  Twv  elaiovTwv  olvtI  tov  ^atpc.  —  PlATO, 


((UHI7.E.. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  INTRODUCTION. 


-»-oi«<o°- 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE   CEPHALIC    SENSES. 


§  1.  -Certain  physiological  facts,  together  with  inferences 
from  them,  form  a  proper  introduction  to  psychology.  As 
man  consists  of  a  body  and  mind  in  essential  relation,  neither 
can  rightly  be  studied  apart  from  the  other.  Psychology, 
the  science  of  mind,  involves,  therefore,  a  study  of  the  body 
as  it  affects  or  is  affected  by  mind.  Physiology,  a  science  of 
organized  body,  considers  at  large  the  function  of  organs; 
but  human  physiology,  in  its  direct  relation  to  mind,  is  con- 
cerned only  with  the  organs  of  sense,  and  the  nervous  sys- 
tem in  general.  These  are  directly  correlated  with  mental 
states,  and  their  influence  in  determining  experience  is  a 
primary  consideration.  We  begin,  then,  with  a  brief  exami- 
nation of  the  several  senses,  followed  by  a  sketch  of  the 
nervous  system,  indicating,  as  we  proceed,  the  results  of  both 
observation  and  experiment. 

§  2.  For  orderly  discussion  the  following  logical  arrange- 
ment is  adopted.  The  senses  in  general  are  of  two  classes, 
the  sensus  fixus,  that  having  local  organs,  and  the  sensus 
vagus,  the  mobile  or  diffused  sense,  sometimes  called  the 
vital  sense.i  The  sensus  fixus  is  divided  into  the  cephalic 
and  the  somatic  senses.     The  former  are  so  named  because 

1  Kant,  Anthropologic,  §  15. 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

their  several  organs  are  located  exclusively  in  the  head. 
They  are  smelling,  tasting,  hearing,  and  seeing.  In  smell 
and  taste  sensation  predominates ;  in  hearing  and  sight  per- 
ception predominates  ;  hence  a  subdivision  of  the  cephalic 
senses  into  the  two  subjective  and  the  two  objective  senses. 
The  somatic  senses  are  so  named  because  their  organs  are 
distributed  over  all  parts  of  the  body.  They  are  touch  and 
the  muscular  sense.  The  former  is  on  the  whole  the  more 
objective  or  percipient;  the  latter,  the  more  subjective  or 
sensuous.  The  sensus  vagus,  or  vital  sense,  need  not  be  sub- 
divided here.     It  is  almost  wholly  subjective  or  sensuous. 

The  cephalic  senses  will  now  be  examined  in  the  order 
of  increasing  objectivity. 

§  3.  The  organ  of  smell  lies  above  the  n^^strils  in  vaulted 
chambers  between  the  eyes.  The  mucous  membrane  lining 
this  cavity  is  supplied  with  a  great  number  of  delicate  olfac- 
tory fibres  which  pass  up  to  the  overlying  brain  through  sieve- 
like perforations  in  the  bony  cribriform  plate  that  roofs  the 
vaults.  Their  further  connection  with  the  nerve  centres  is 
called  the  first  pair  of  cerebral  nerves,  or  the  olfactoiy 
nerves.  But  these  are  not  clearly  traceable,  and  the  olfac- 
tory fibres  seem  rather  to  be  direct  processes  of  the  cerebral 
hemispheres.^ 

Effluvia  and  certain  gases  and  vapors,  soluble  in  the  moist- 
ure of  the  mucous  lining,  excite  the  enclosed  olfactory 
fibres,  and  produce  a  sense-perception  of  odor.^ 

1  It  is  very  desirable  that  tlie  reader  sliould  have  a  knowledge  of  the  anat- 
omy and  physiology  of  the  organs  of  sense,  and  of  the  nervous  system 
generally,  far  beyond  what  would  be  proper,  or  even  possible,  to  give  in  the 
present  treatise.  Nothing  but  the  barest  outline  statement  being  admissible 
here,  he  is  earnestly  reconnnended  to  inform  himself  more  fully  by  perusing 
on  these  points  some  good  handbook  of  physiology.  To  this  end  T  have 
used  satisfactorily  with  my  pupils  Huxley's  Lesso7is  in  Elementart/  Pfnjsiol- 
ogy,  published  by  IMacmillan  &  Co. 

2  All  volatile  organic  compounds,  says  Gmelin,  are  odoriferous.  The 
substances  causing  pleasant  odors  are  chiefly  hydrocarbons,  as  the  ethers. 
Substances  repulsive  frequently  contain  sulphur,   as    sulphydric  acid ;   but 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  3 

§  4.  In  the  ordinary  exercise  of  the  sense  of  smell  the 
agreeable  or  disagreeable  feeling  is  a  marked  experience,  and 
greatly  predominates  over  the  knowledge  it  gives  of  its 
object.  As  compared  with  the  other  senses,  the  feeling  or 
sensation  in  smell  is  at  a  maximnm,  whereas  the  accom- 
panying knowledge  or  perception  is  at  a  minimum.  That  is 
to  say,  smell  is  the  most  highly  sensuous  and  most  feebly 
perceptive  of  the  fixed  senses.  Yet  its  perceptive  power  is 
remarkably  acute,  and  in  some  cases  it  surpasses  the  spec- 
troscope in  detecting  the  presence  of  minute  particles.^  By 
attentive  exercise  its  power  of  discrimination  may  be  greatly 
improved.^  But  by  just  so  much  as  its  perceptive  or  objec- 
tive power  increases,  does  its  naturally  sensuous  or  sub- 
jective character  decrease,  so  that  it  may  even  cease  to  be  a 
source  of  pleasure  or  pain,  all  odors  becoming  subjectively 
indifferent.^ 

the  most  offensive  have  arsenic  for  their  base,  as  chloride  of  kakodyle. 
Odorous  matter  is  such  as  in  general  can  readily  be  acted  on  by  oxygen, 
and  unless  oxygen  passes  into  the  nostrils  along  with  it,  no  smell  is  caused. 

1  The  perceptive  power  of  this  sense  to  detect  the  presence  of  odoriferous 
particles  is  marvellous.  Sulphydric  acid  in  the  atmosphere,  in  the  pro- 
portion of  one  to  a  million,  is  distinctly  perceptible.  Valentin  has  calculated 
that  it  can  perceive  about  the  three  hundred  millionths  (0.00000003)  of  a 
grain  of  musk.  Another  chemist  estimates  that  two  and  a  half  billionths 
(0.0000000025)  of  a  grain  of  camphor  is  perceptible.  So  minute  a  particle  is 
quite  imperceptible  otherwise;  no  microscope  can  bring  it  within  the  reach  of 
vision;  and  even  the  spectroscope,  which  can  detect  the  fifteen  millionths 
(0.000015)  of  a  grain,  is  far  surpassed  in  delicacy  by  the  organ  of  smell.  It 
furnishes  extreme  examples  of  the  di^asibility  of  matter. 

-  The  blind  are  guided  by  it  with  facility  and  accuracy.  Humboldt  says 
that  the  Peruvian  Indians,  in  the  night,  can  not  only  perceive  by  scent  the 
approach  of  a  stranger  while  yet  far  distant,  but  can  say  whether  he  is  an 
Indian,  a  European,  or  a  negro.  The  Arabs  of  the  Sahara  recognize  the 
smell  of  fire  thirty  or  more  miles  away.  The  Spice  Islands  of  the  Indian 
Archipelago  are  recognized  far  out  at  sea.  Nearer  home,  our  tobacco  buyers 
determine  differences  of  value  by  faint  differences  of  odor  quite  indistinguish- 
able by  the  uneducated.  The  word  sagacious,  meaning  primarily  keen-scented, 
is  often  used  to  denote  high  intelligence  or  power  of  discrimination. 

3  This  is  true  of  the  blind,  who  rely  on  it.  To  the  dog,  whose  sagacity  is 
proverbial,  all  odors  seem  subjectively  indifferent. 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

§  5.  The  combined  sensation  and  perception,  or  sense- 
perception,  of  smell  is  a  mental  state.  The  object  perceived, 
the  percept,  is  an  odor.  By  the  common  judgment  of  men, 
odor  is  a  quality  of  body,  an  external  material  cause  of  the 
mental  state ;  it  is  attributed  to  body  as  a  quality  inherent 
in  its  substance.  The  philosophic  correctness  of  this  judg- 
ment in  its  general  form  will  be  subsequently  considered 
and  maintained.  Its  truth  is,  for  the  present,  assumed,  and 
we  proceed  at  once  to  the  question:  What  body  has  the 
quality  odor ;  or  what  is  the  material  thing  that  directly 
excites  the  sense-perception  of  smell  ? 

It  is  universally  allowed  that  I  have  immediate  knowl- 
edge or  am  conscious  of  the  odor.  Now,  according  to  the 
foregoing  assumption,  I  am  therein  conscious  of  the  material 
thing  that  excites  in  me  this  special  sense-perception.  But 
the  object  immediately  known  in  perception  must  be  one 
which  is  the  proximate  cause  of  the  conscious  affection ;  for 
a  remote  cause  can  be  known  only  by  inference,  and  this  is 
always  mediate  knowledge.^ 

What,  then,  is  the  proximate  cause  of  this  affection  ?  Of 
what  external  thing  am  I  conscious  ?  Certainly  not  of  the 
rose  that  I  hold  in  my  hand,  nor  of  its  effluvium ;  for  evi- 
dently these  are  quite  remote  causes.  Nor  am  I  conscious 
of  the  outer  organ  of  smell.  Its  function  undoubtedly  is  to 
receive,  modify,  and  transmit  the  impressions  of  effluvia. 
But  of  this  I  know  nothing  consciously.  The  existence  and 
functions  of  the  outer  organ  become  known  to  me  only  as 
the  result  of  observation  and  inference.  Moreover,  its 
existence  is  not  essential  to  the  percept;  for  if  it  be  cut 
away  by  the  surgeon's  knife,  and  an  electric  shock  be  passed 
through  the  cribriform  plate,  a  sense-perception  of  odor  is 
experienced.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  the  outer  organ  is 
only  one  link  in  a  chain  of  remote  causes,  which  proceeds 

1  Mediate,  not  in  the  logical,  but  in  the  psychological  sense.  That  is  to 
say,  a  remote  cause  can  be  known  only  through  a  representation,  wliich  is, 
psychologically,  mediate  knowledge. 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  5 

into  the  brain.  Hence  tlie  proximate  cause  of  the  sense- 
perception  is  some  interior  cerebral  movement,  some  brain 
cliange,  a  certain  special  excitement  of  the  inner  sensory, 
perhaps  limited  to  a  detinite  part  which  constitutes  the  inner 
organ  or  centre  of  smell. 

We  reach,  then,  the  unquestionable  and  very  important 
conclusion  that  in  smell  the  object  external  to  mind,  the 
object  of  which  I  am  conscious,  is  a  brain  change,  and  nothing 
beyond ;  that  the  inner  sensory  itself,  excited  in  a  special 
manner,  is.  the  proximate  cause  of  the  sense-perception,  and 
therefore  the  brain  itself,  or  probably  some  part  of  it,  is  the 
percept,  the  object  immediately  perceived  when  I  experience 
the  presence  of  odor. 

§  6.  The  sense  of  smell  gives  the  existence  of  body  as  hav- 
ing this  one  quality,  odor.  It  does  not  give  body  as  having 
either  extension  or  place.  It  does  not  localize  its  percept 
either  in  the  cranium,  where  it  is,  or  in  the  nostrils,  where  it 
is  not.  When  by  aid  of  other  faculties  we  have  ascertained 
that  some  remote  thing,  as  a  rose,  is  a  cause  of  the  sense- 
perception,  we  attribute  the  odor  to  it  as  its  inherent  quality ; 
and  because  of  the  habitual  use  of  the  nostrils  as  the  recog- 
nized and  recognizing  instrument,  we  locate  the  conscious- 
ness in  them,  and  seem  to  experience  the  odor  there.  But 
the  foregoing  slight  analysis  shows  that  both  these  localiza- 
tions are  acquired  and  erroneous  notions,  and  identifies  the 
body  possessing  this  quality,  this  special  power  of  directly 
affecting  me,  with  the  inner  sensory,  the  brain  itself. 

The  subsequent  examination  of  the  other  forms  of  the 
sensus  fixus  will  show  that  these  conclusions  are  general. 

§  7.  The  organ  of  taste  lies  in  the  mucous  membrane 
which  covers  the  tongue,  especially  its  back  part,  and  the 
hinder  part  of  the  palate.  The  papillce  of  this  membrane 
receive  nervous  filaments  chiefly  from  the  ninth  pair  of  cere- 
bral nerves,  called   the  glosso-pharyngeal,  but  also  from  a 


Q  INTRODUCTION. 

branch  of  the  fifth  pair,  the  trigeminal,  this  branch  being 
called  the  gustatory  nerve.  The  gustatory  nerve  mostly 
supplies  the  front  of  the  tongue,  the  glosso-pharyngeal  its 
back  part  and  the  adjacent  part  of  the  palate.^  These  nerves 
are  partly  motor,  but  they  are  mainly  sensor,  and  it  is  believed 
that  somewhat  different  taste  sensations  arise  from  each. 

The  excitant  of  taste  is  sapid  matter  dissolved  in  the 
moisture  of  the  mucous  membrane.  Insoluble  solids  are 
insipid,  solubility  being  a  condition  of  sapidity.  But  not  all 
soluble  matter  is  sapid.^ 

Taste  is  highly  subjective,  the  sensation  being  strongly 
marked  as  agreeable,  or  disagreeable  even  to  disgust,  while 
the  percept  is  proportionately  faint.^  Still  it  is  an  acute  and 
important  means  of  information,  and  susceptible  of  great 
improvement  in  delicate  discrimination.'* 

§  8.  The  impression  we  usually  call  taste  is,  however, 
quite  complex,  involving  not  only  smell,  but  touch,  muscular 
sense  and  temperature,  besides  stomatic  sensations.  It  is 
consequently  difficult  to  distinguish  and  analyze  pure  taste. 
But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  its  percept,  savor,  though 
greatly  obscured  by  this  complication,  is  a  simple  and  ulti- 
mate enorganic  affection.  What  was  said  of  odor  in  the 
preceding  section,  may  be  said  of  savor.  It  is  merely  an 
excited  state  of  an  intercranial  sensory,  and  what  is  immedi- 

1  The  latter  seems  to  be  more  especially  the  nerve  of  taste.  Animals  in 
•whom  it  has  been  severed  devour  food  mixed  with  the  bitterest  ingredients. 

2  It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  electricity  excites  taste.  Hence 
the  taste  of  metals,  e.g.  of  zinc  and  copper. 

3  To  taste  means  to  test,  to  try.  "  Taste  your  legs,  Sir ;  put  them  to 
motion.'"  —  Ticelfth  Night,  A.  3,  sc.  1.  Primarily,  to  test  by  touch.  Note 
the  extended  use  of  the  word  in  aesthetics,  and  also  the  secondary  meaning 
of  di.sgust. 

*  The  tongue  can  recognize  the  acidity  of  a  drop  of  solution  consisting  of 
one  part  of  sulphuric  acid  in  10,000  parts  of  water,  and  the  bitterness  of  one 
of  sulphate  of  quinine  in  33,000  of  water,  quantities  too  small  to  be  detected 
by  chemical  tests.  The  skilled  wiTie-tastcr,  it  is  said,  can  tell  the  vineyard 
of  a  choice  wine,  and  the  year  of  its  vintage. 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  7 

ately  perceived  is   not  something  in  the  mouth,  but  some- 
thing in  the  sensorium. 

§  9.  Smell  and  taste  are  analogous.  The  outer  organs  of 
both  lie  in  the  mucous  membrane,  and  require  the  solution  of 
their  excitants.  These  seem  to  be  foreign  particles  acting 
chemically  on  the  nerve  fibres,  whereas  in  hearing  and  sight 
the  excitement  seems  due  to  motion,  the  vibration  of  foreio-n 
particles;  hence  the  two  former  are  sometimes  called  the 
chemical  senses ;  the  two  latter,  the  mechanical  senses.^ 

Both  smell  and  taste  are  highly  sensuous  and  feebly  per- 
ceptive ;  hence  the  sensation  is  much  more  easily  and  dis- 
tinctly remembered  than  the  perception.^  There  is  great 
sympathy  between  these  two  senses,  so  that  what  is  agreeable 
or  disagreeable  to  one  is  likely  to  be  so  to  the  other,  smell 
thus  acting  as  a  preparatory  test  and  safeguard  to  taste  .-^ 
The  similarity  of  their  impressions  is  such  that  the  words 
Jlavor  and  savor  often  interchange  meanings. 

§  10.  The  organ  of  hearing  is  very  complex,  and  the  spe- 
cific function  of  certain  parts  is  not  known.  For  the  present 
purpose  it  is  sufficient  to  observe  that  the  vibrations  of  a 
sonorous  body,  as  a  bell,  are  communicated  to  the  air,  and 
through  this  medium  to  the  outer  membrane  of  the  tympanum 
or  drum  of  the  ear ;  that  they  thence  pass  through  a  chain  of 
small  bones,  and  then  through  a  fluid  to  certain  cells  of  audi- 
tory epithelium,  where  peripheral  filaments  of  the  auditory 
nerve  are  stimulated  ;  that  this  stimulus  is  propagated  along 
the  trunk  nerve  into  the  sensorium,  there  causing  an  excite- 
ment or  disturbance  of  the  sensory,  probably  at  some  aural 
centre.  The  consciousness  of  this  final  sensorial  excitement 
is  the  sense-perception  of  sound. 

1  Wundt  classes  sight  as  a  chemical  sense. 

2  It  is  because  of  this  subjective  character,  perhaps,  that  they  have  baffled 
so  far  all  attempts  to  measure  their  intensity. 

3  Socrates,  in  a  dialogue  with  Aristodemus,  discourses  of  this  relation  as 
an  evidence  of  design. —  See  Blackie's  Four  Phases,  p.  78,  Am.  ed. 


8  INTEODUCTION. 

§  11.  The  sense  of  hearing  is  more  perceptive  or  objective 
than  sensuous  or  subjective.  The  mere  sensuous  feeling  is 
ordinarily  of  low  intensity,  a  single  sound  or  synchronous 
sounds  giving  little  pleasure  or  pain.  If,  however,  a  sound 
be  very  loud,  acute,  harsh,  or  discordant,  the  sensation  becomes 
painful,  and  the  percept  loses  proportionally  its  vividness. 
The  enjoyment  of  music  is  but  slightly  sensuous.  Sweet  or 
pleasing  sounds  are  perhaps  essential,  but  the  enjoyment 
arises  chiefly  from  the  variety  and  harmonious  relations  of 
the  sounds.  The  recognition  of  this  is  intellectual,  and  the 
pleasant  feelings  attending  it  are  not  properly  sensations,  but 
emotions  and  sentiments. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  perceptive  power  of  hearing  is  very 
comprehensive  and  discriminating.  The  number  of  musical 
tones  that  can  be  distinguished  by  pitch  alone  is  several  hun- 
dred, and  if  their  intensity  and  timbre  be  taken  into  account, 
the  number  is  incalculable.  Yet  to  these  must  be  added  an 
innumerable  variety  of  articulate  vocal  sounds,  and  to  these 
again  an  even  greater  variety  of  mere  noises. 

§  12.  The  percept  of  hearing  is  sound.  Hearing  is  a  SY>e- 
cific  sense-perception,  a  state  of  mind  ;  sound  is  its  object,  the 
thing  perceived.  I  am  conscious  of  the  sound.  Now  what 
is  the  thing  herein  immediately  known  to  me  ?  It  is  not  the 
bell,  nor  the  aerial  vibrations ;  these  are  only  remote  causes. 
Indeed,  the  latter  are  not  requisite,  as  is  proved  by  a  tuning- 
fork  held  between  the  teeth,  in  which  case  the  vibrations  are 
conveyed  by  the  bones  of  the  face.^  But  even  vibrations  are 
not  essential,  nor  indeed  the  apparatus  of  the  peripheral  or 
outer  ear ;  for  if  this  ear  be  completely  destroyed,  and  the 
stump  of  the  auditory  trunk  nerve  irritated  with  a  needle,  a 
sense-perception  of  sound  is  produced.     The  outer  ear  serves 

1  In  case  of  deafness  it  may  be  thus  determined  whether  the  cause  is  a 
stoppage  of  the  outer  passages,  or  a  disorder  of  tlie  inner  car.  Fish  have  no 
ear  opening,  the  vibrations  being  conveyed  from  the  water  to  the  audittuy 
nerve  througli  solid  bono. 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  9 

doubtless  to  receive,  modify,  and  transmit  in  all  their  various 
characters  the  sound-producing  vibrations ;  but  of  its  func- 
tions, even  of  its  existence,  I  am  utterly  unconscious.  I  am 
conscious  only  of  a  result  occurring  at  the  supposed  aural 
centre,  the  inner  ear,  which  I  call  a  sound.  Sound,  then,  is 
a  phenomenon  of  brain.  The  percept  is  not  merely  enorganic, 
but  intercranial ;  the  thing  immediately  perceived,  the  proxi- 
mate cause  of  the  sense-perception,  is  the  inner  sensory.^ 

§  13.  The  percept  of  hearing  is  not  consciously  located  at 
all.  It  is  not  perceived  to  be  in  the  sensorium,  where  in  fact 
it  is,  nor  in  the  outer  ear,  where  it  is  not.  That  some  sounds 
seem  to  be  in  the  outer  ear  is  doubtless  due  to  a  disturbance 
of  tactile  nerves  in  the  vicinity.  Commonly  we  locate  a 
sound,  by  inference,  in  its  remote  cause,  as  in  the  bell,  or 
else  in  its  atmosphere.  But  sound  proper  is  wholly  inter- 
cranial. Outside  there  are  only  vibrations,  and  were  there 
no  inner  ear  to  hear,  absolute  silence  would  reign  throughout 
the  universe. 

§  14.  That  sound  is  an  intercranial  phenomenon  is  proved 
by  a  fact  in  binaural  audition.  If  two  unisonant  musical 
tones  be  conveyed  by  acoustic  tubes,  one  to  each  ear,  a 
smooth  musical  note  is  heard ;  but  if  they  differ  by  a  quarter 
tone,  a  beating  note  is  heard.  Now  where  is  this  beating? 
Not  in  the  outside  air,  which  is  shut  off  by  the  tubes.  Not  in 
either  tube,  for  each  conveys  a  smooth  tone.  It  can  be  only 
in  the  brain,  and,  since  the  auditory  nerves  do  not  decussate, 
probably  at  co-ordinated  centres  where  they  terminate.  This 
is  a  physical  demonstration  by  experiment,  that  sound  is  not 

1  When  we  stop  our  ears  with  the  tips  of  the  fingers  a  roaring  sound  is 
heard,  probably  due  to  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  and  about  the  inner 
ear.  If  one  will  attentively  contemplate  this  subjective  sound,  as  the  physi- 
ologists call  it,  dismissing  all  consideration  of  its  cause  and  its  apparent 
locality  in  the  outer  ear,  he  can  more  clearly  apprehend  our  doctrine  that 
all  sound  is  subjective,  its  perception  being  merely  a  consciousness  of  the 
sensory  excited  in  a  peculiar  manner. 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

something  in  the  sonorous  body,  or  in  its  atmosphere,  nor 
something  in  the  outer  ear,  but  that  it  is  a  cerebral  phenom- 
enon, and  that  the  thing  immediately  perceived  is  an  excited 
sensory,  probably  an  aural  centre.^ 

§  15.  The  outer  organ  of  sight,  the  eyeball,  is  a  camera 
obscura,  having  in  front  a  combination  of  lenses  which  bring 
pencils  of  light  to  foci  on  the  retina  lining  the  interior. 
These  pencils  thus  depict  on  the  retina,  as  on  a  screen,  an 
ojDtical  picture  of  remote  luminous  objects.  The  retina  is  a 
complexus  of  nerve  filaments  which  are  ramifications  of  the 
optic  nerve,  and  through  the  optic  nerve  the  impressions  on 
the  retina  are  conveyed  in  a  modified  form  to  a  sensorial 
sight  centre,  and  vision  ensues,  a  sense-perception  of  colored 
figure. 

§  16.  Sight  is  the  most  objective  of  the  senses.  Its  sensa- 
tions are  ordinarily  quite  feeble,  scarcely  marked  as  pleasant 
or  painful.  A  very  bright  light,  however,  and  also  a  dim 
light,  are  painful,  because  of  the  overstrained  energy  they 
arouse.  Certain  soft  and  rich  colors,  of  medium  brightness, 
give  a  marked  sensuous  pleasure  ;  and,  in  general,  light  is  an 
agreeable  and  very  effective  stimulant.^  But  the  pleasure 
we  experience  in  viewing  harmonious  contrasts  of  colors  and 
the  variations  of  light  and  shade  is  mostly  intellectual  and 

^  The  experiment  was  first  tried  by  myself,  and  the  above  paragi-aph 
written,  early  in  the  winter  of  1876-7.  It  was  at  once  published  to  my 
pupils,  and  has  ever  since  been  used  in  my  teaching. 

In  the  summer  of  1877,  Professor  S.  P.  Thompson  announced  to  the  Brit- 
ish Association  his  own  discovery  of  this  phenomenon.  (See  Beport  of  Brit. 
Assoc,  Plymouth,  1877,  p.  37  ;  also  Phil.  Mag.  for  October,  1877,  p.  274; 
for  November,  1878,  p.  38.3  ;  and  for  November,  1881,  p.  351.)  He  pursues 
the  subject  by  a  number  of  ingenious  experiments,  and  adds  many  acute 
observations,  dwelling  especially  on  the  fact  that  the  sensation  of  the  sound 
is  localized  centrally  at  the  back  of  the  head.  Viewing  the  matter  as  a 
physicist,  he  establishes  andfliscusses  the  facts,  but  nowhere  does  he  draw 
tlie  important  psycliological  conclusion  given  above  in  the  text. 

2  <i  Truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to 
behold  the  sun."— Eccl.  11  :7. 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  11 

aesthetic,  with  very  little  that  is  strictly  sensuous.  The  pleasure 
arising  from  form  without  regard  to  color,  as  of  a  statue  or 
a  line  engraving,  is  still  less  sensuous. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  perceptions  of  sight  are  remarkably 
clear  and  distinct.  The  almost  infinite  variety  of  shades  and 
hues  distinguishable  indicates  the  wide  range  and  acute  dis- 
crimination of  vision.  It  is  the  most  keenly  percipient  of 
the  senses,  and  hence,  as  a  source  of  information,  it  is  by  far 
the  most  useful  sense. 

§  17.  The  primary  percept  of  sight  is  color,  including 
under  this  term  not  only  all  hues,  but  also  white  and  black, 
and  every  variety  of  light  and  shade.  Seeing  is  a  specific 
sense-perception,  a  state  of  mind ;  color  is  its  primary  object, 
the  thing  perceived.     I  am  conscious  of  the  color. 

What,  now,  is  color  psychologically  considered ;  that  is,  as 
perceived?  It  is  not  a  quality  inherent  in  the  luminous 
object ;  for  a  white  rose  in  the  beams  of  the  prismatic  spec- 
trum will  assume  any  of  its  hues,  and  in  the  dark  all  roses 
are  colorless.  It  is  not  the  light  itself;  for  while  many 
things  seem  to  emit  white  light,  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
a  white  ray,  but  the  impression  white  is  the  subjective 
effect  of  the  combined  prismatic  colors.  Moreover,  light 
is  not  essential,  for  with  closed  eyes  I  may  still  perceive 
phosphenes,  due  to  retinal  excitement,  displaying  many 
colors.!  It  is  not  the  retinal  picture ;  nor  the  retina  itself, 
of  which  I  am  conscious ;  for  if  the  eyeballs  be  removed, 
and  the  remains  of  the  optic  nerve  be  irritated,  a  vision  of 
colors  will  still  be  experienced.^     The  retina  serves  to  receive, 

1  They  may  be  rendered  quite  vivid  by  pressing  on  the  eyeballs.  A  blow 
on  the  head  causes  one  to  "  see  stars."  These  percepts  are  evidently  not  due 
to  ethereal  vibrations,  but  to  mechanical  disturbance  of  the  retina.  An  atten- 
tive contemplation  of  phosphene ;s,  especially  if  projecting  them  into  space  be 
avoided,  will  enable  one  to  apj  eciate  more  satisfactorily  the  fact  that  the 
percepts  are  enorganic. 

2  Moreover,  one  who  has  becoi  le  blind  by  loss  of  the  eyeballs  alone,  can 
still  vividly  image  colored  scenes;  but  "the  destruction  of  the  sight  centre 


\<\     ^ 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

modify,  and  transmit  in  modified  form  through  the  optic  nerve 
the  sight-producing  vibrations  ;  but  I  am  unconscious  of  the 
part  it  plays,  or  even  of  its  existence.  I  am  conscious  only 
of  a  result,  which  has  been  ascertained  to  occur  at  a  sight 
centre  far  within  the  cerebrum,  and  I  call  it  a  color. 

We  thus  trace  this  percept,  as  the  others,  into  the  nervous 
centres,  and  find  that  color,  too,  is  a  phenomenon  of  brain. 
It  is  not  that  we  perceive  the  sight  centre  to  be  colored  in 
the  manner  that  we  seem  to  see  outward  objects  colored;  but 
it  is  that  the  sight  centre  is  the  immediate  object,  the  mate- 
rial thing,  that  directly  causes  the  conscious  impression  of 
color  in  the  mind,  and  therefore  it  is  the  material  object  im- 
mediately known  or  perceived. 

We  commonly  attribute  color  to  external  objects,  and  think 
of  it  as  residing  on  their  surfaces.^  We  regard  light  as  some- 
thing beyond  ourselves,  filling  space.  There  is,  hypotheti- 
cally,  a  vibrating  ether  filling  space,  which  causes  the  phe- 
nomenon;  but  there  is  no  brightness  beyond  ourselves  out 
in  space,  nor  any  color,  blue,  yellow,  or  red,  residing  on  the 
surface  of  bodies.  Colors  are  wholly  the  phenomena  of  one's 
brain,  caused  by  the  supposed  vibrations ;  so  that,  were  there 
no  eye  to  see,  the  sun  would  not  be  bright,  the  moon  and 
stars  would  not  shine,  the  sky  would  have  no  tints,  the  land- 
scape no  hues,  no  shades,  and  absolute  darkness  would  reign 
throuGfhout  the  universe. 

§  18.  That  color  is  an  intercranial  phenomenon  finds 
further  proof  in  a  fact  of  binocular  vision.     Put  two  pieces 

not  only  makes  the  individual  blind  presentatively,  but  blind  also  representa- 
tively or  ideally,  and  all  cognitions  into  which  visual  characters  enter  in  part 
or  whole  become  mangled  and  imperfect,  or  are  utterly  rooted  out  of  con- 
sciousness."—  I).  Fkruier's  Functions  of  the  Bmhi,  p.  259. 

1  That  it  does  not  is  confirmed  by  the  remarkable  defect,  generally  con- 
genital, called  color-blindness.  It  is  never  entire,  but  in  part  it  is  quite 
common,  about  one  person  in  twenty  being  nive  or  less  color-blind,  and  the 
inability  to  distinguish  red  being  most  frequ  at.  Nevertheless,  the  subject 
sees  the  object,  though  of  a  different  Ime  from  ^  /hat  we  regard  as  its  real  color. 

Was  not  Homer  merely  color-blind  ?  The  Iliad,  like  a  steel  engraving,  is 
colorless.  < 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  1 


Q 


of  paper,  one  yellow,  the  other  blue,  in  the  separate  compart- 
ments of  a  stereoscope.  On  lookmg  through  the  lenses,  the 
percept  is  green.  Now,  where  is  this  green  ?  It  is  not  in 
either  eye,  for  it  is  physically  certain  that  the  picture  on  one 
retina  is  yellow,  and  on  the  other  blue.  The  percej^t  green 
cannot  be  short  of  the  optic  chiasm,  where  the  optic  nerves 
partially  decussate,  and  probably  it  lies  much  deeper  in  the 
cerebrum.  This  is  a  physical  demonstration  by  experiment, 
that  in  vision  of  color  the  object  consciously  known  by  this 
phenomenon  is  not  the  retina,  and  that  it  is  intercranial,  an 
excited  cerebral  sight  centre.^ 

§  19.  Beside  color,  sight  is  cognizant  of  extension.  On 
looking  at  the  starry  heavens,  the  luminous  points  I  see  are 
numerous.  The  points  of  imjDression  being  numerous  and 
simultaneous,  must  be  apart  in  space,  and  herein  is  a  con- 
sciousness of  extension. 

This  extension  is  not  that  of  the  heavens  themselves ;  for 
evidently  I  cannot  be  conscious  of  their  extension.  It  is 
commonly  supposed  to  be  that  of  the  retinal  picture,  the 
minute  chart  of  the  heavens  which  the  pencils  of  light  depict 
on  my  retina,  mentally  projected  out,  beyond  and  above  me, 
and  thought  into  a  sky.  But  what  I  see,  and  my  retinal  pic- 
ture, do  not  exactly  correspond.  Moreover,  as  has  already 
been  indicated,  the  retinal  picture  is  out  of  consciousness. 
How,  then,  shall  we  interpret  this  fact  of  consciousness,  the 
consciousness,  in  sight,  of  extension?  The  true  statement 
seems  to  be  this :  The  retinal  picture  determines  a  complex 
impression  on  the  inner  sight  centre,  not  only  of  colors,  but 
also  of  their  expanse ;  and  this  combined  impression  consti- 
tutes a  field  of  view,  consisting  of  colored  figures.^ 

1  The  experiment  is  parallel  to  that  on  sound,  §  14.  It  is  not  new,  being 
found  in  Brewster's  Optics  in  a  different  form.  The  psychological  inference, 
stated  above,  has  not  previously,  so  far  as  I  know,  been  drawn. 

2  That  sight  is  cognizant  of  extension  in  two  dimensions,  length  and 
breadth  (but  not  depth),  is  generally  conceded.  Hamilton  argues  for  it,  but 
unsatisfactorily,  3Ma.,  Lee.  28.    Psychologists  of  to-day  hold  it  on  other  but 


1-1  IMTKODUVTION. 

Accordingly,  we  take  color,  since  it  is  the  condition  of 
visible  extension,  to  be  the  primtuy,  and  its  extension,  or 
figure,  to  be  the  secondary,  but  equally  immediate,  percept 
of  sight.  This  consciousness  of  colored  figure  is  an  empiri- 
cal occasion  for  the  pure  idea,  or  intellectual  discernment  of 
space.  Also  in  the  changing  of  visible  figure  we  inmiediately 
perceive,  or  are  conscious  of,  motion. 

§  20.  The  external  conditions  of  hearing  and  seeing  are 
analogous,  being  in  both  cases  a  vibrating  body,  sonorous  or 
luminous,  and  a  pulsating  medium  conveying  the  movement 
to  the  outer  organs  of  sense.  The  organs,  though  in  appear- 
ance very  dissimilar,  are  essentially  alike  in  being  fitted  to 
receive,  modify,  and  transmit  vibrations.  Both  have  nerve 
ramifications,  impressible  by  vibrations  of  certain  degrees  of 
intensity,  and  are  insensible  to  others.^  Moreover,  both 
these  senses  are  highly  perceptive  and  feebly  sensuous.     The 

various  gi-ounds.  The  fact  being  granted,  how  shall  it  be  interpreted  ?  The 
various  hypotheses  have  been  classed  by  Helmholtz  as  native  and  empirical. 
Of  the  former,  the  doctrine  of  Mtiller  is  called  the  hypothesis  of  subjective 
identity.  "The  retina,"  says  he,  "feels  its  own  extension  and  position. 
Even  when  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  world  without,  it  feels  them  as 
darkness  before  the  eyes."  Also  there  is  the  hypothesis  of  projection,  main- 
tahied  especially  by  Volkuiann,  which  teaches  that  "  the  retina  is  capable  of 
projecting  its  impressions  outward  in  given  lines  of  direction  or  of  sight." 
These  hypotheses  have  been  variously  modified  to  suit  the  facts,  but  are  now 
generally  regarded  as  unsatisfactory.  The  leading  representative  of  the 
empirical  class  is  Helmholtz,  he  holding  to  the  genesis  of  visual  space  from 
experience  alone.  The  peculiar  views  of  Lotze  and  Wundt  on  the  genesis 
of  the  notion  of  space  will  be  noticed  under  the  head  of  Touch. 

The  interpretation  given  above  in  the  text  may  fairly  be  classed  as  nativ- 
ist.  A  number  of  facts  favor  it ;  e.g.  there  is  a  blind  spot  on  the  retina,  but 
no  corresponding  dark  spot  in  the  field  of  view. 

1  Aerial  vibrations  fewer  than  8  per  sec.  are  inaudible,  and  at  least  16  per 
sec.  are  requisite  to  produce  a  musical  tone.  Vibrations  of  more  than  38,000 
per  sec.  are  inaudible,  but  painful  if  intense.  Ethereal  vibrations  fewer  than 
3U!)  trillions  per  sec,  the  extreme  red,  do  not  excite  vision  ;  nor  do  those  of 
more  than  8.31  trillions  per  sec,  the  extreme  violet  or  lavender.  Thus  while 
the  range  of  the  ear  is  a  little  more  than  eleven  octaves,  that  of  the  eye  is- 
little  more  than  one  octave. 


THE  CEPHALIC  SENSES.  15 

sensations  are  similar  in  being  susceptible  of  harmony  and 
discord.^  The  perceptions  are  similar  in  the  power  which 
they  acquire  of  giving  information  respecting  remote  objects. 
They  have  also  a  remarkable  power  of  analysis,  hearing  divid- 
ing time,  and  sight  dividing  space,  almost  infinitesimally. 

§  21.  From  the  foregoing  view  of  the  cephalic  senses  it 
clearly  appears  that  the  immediate  percept  of  each  is  an 
excited  sensory.  The  same  will  on  examination  be  found 
true  of  the  percepts  of  the  somatic  senses.  Indeed,  the  fact 
is  general,  true  of  all  those  percepts  commonly  known  as  the 
secondary  qualities  of  body,  they  being  in  reality  affections 
of  the  organism,  and  having  no  resemblance  to  any  attribute 
inhering  in  extra-organic  bocUes.  This  important  fact  is  not 
new  in  physiology  .^  It  has  not,  however,  been  fully  appre- 
ciated by  psychologists.^     In  view  of  it  we  are  enabled  to 

1  The  subjective  analogy  between  hearing  and  seeing  is  illustrated  by  the 
following  words  of  Taylor :  "  You  look  around  the  room  as  you  enter.  The 
whitewash  dazzles  you.  A  scarlet  geranium  in  bloom  on  the  \Yindow  sill 
startles  you  like  a  trumpet  blast  amid  all  this  silence  of  white." 

■^  Says  Mtiller :  ' '  External  agencies  can  give  rise  to  no  kind,  of  sensation 
which  cannot  also  be  produced  by  internal  causes  exciting  changes  in  the 
condition  of  our  nerves." — Elem.  of.  Phys.,  p.  1059.  And,  later,  Bernstein 
says  :  "  It  is  clear  that  we  really  have  no  sensations  [perceptions]  of  objects 
of  the  external  world  themselves,  but  only  of  the  changes  which  occur  in  the 
sensorium."  —  Five  Senses  of  Man,  Int.,  p.  5. 

3  Reid  held  that  in  looking  at  the  sun  we  are  immediately  conscious  of  it. 
Hamilton  in  one  place  defends  this  view  (Meta.,  pp.  158-9).  In  another  he 
says:  "  Nothing  could  be  more  absurd"  (p.  357).  lie  holds  that  "the  ex- 
ternal object  in  perception  is  always  in  contact  with  the  organ  of  sense" 
(p.  375).  "Through  the  eye  we  perceive  nothing  but  the  rays  of  light  in 
relation  to  and  in  contact  with  the  retina  "  (p.  358).  Mansel,  his  pupil,  says  : 
"  The  presented  object  is  on  the  surface  of  the  retina  "  {Meta.,  p.  75).  That 
is,  the  retinal  picture.  But  elsewhere  (p.  65)  he  says:  "Our  own  sensitive 
organism  is  the  only  kind  of  matter  that  is  immediately  cognizible  by  the 
senses."  President  Porter  says  :  "  The  mind  does  not  see  the  image  on  the 
retina"  (Hum.  Intel!.,  p.  132).  Professor  Clifford  says:  "  It  is  more  coi-rect 
to  say  that  we  see  with  a  certain  part  of  our  brains,  than  to  say  that  we 
see  with  our  eyes."  It  would  be  still  more  rigidly  correct  to  say  that  we  see 
a  certain  part  of  our  brains. 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

formulate  an  answer  to  the  general  question :  What  is  the 
material  thing  which  each  sense  immediately  perceives  ?  See 
§  5.  The  answer,  which  we  shall  hold  to  be  an  established 
proposition,  is :  The  brain  itself  is  the  immediate  object  in 
perception. 

This  proposition  is  very  important,  and  therefore  its  claim 
of  acceptance  should  be  carefully  considered.  The  doctrine 
of  immediate  perception,  in  its  usual  form,  has  encountered 
many  objections,  which,  if  our  proposition  be  allowed,  are 
avoided.  We  shall  find  hereafter  that  an  escape  from  ideal- 
ism, or  the  doctrine  that  a  non-ego  does  not  exist,  can  be 
accomplished  only  on  the  ground  that  extra-organic  objects 
are  not  immediately  perceived.  If  immediate  perception  be 
allowed  only  to  intra-organic  objects,  we  shall  be  better 
enabled  to  establish  the  distinction  between  mind  and  matter, 
and  so,  on  the  other  hand,  escape  the  meshes  of  materialism, 
or  the  doctrine  that  matter  only  exists.  The  brain  being 
the  matter  in  opposition  to  mind,  the  two  being  in  no  sense 
identical,  we  can  hold  the  doctrine  of  two  substances,  inter- 
acting, co-ordinated,  mutually  dependent,  and  yet  entirely 
distinct.    • 

No  doubt  there  is  a  difficulty  in  conceiving  one's  brain  as 
the  immediate  object  perceived.  But  we  must  separate  our- 
selves from  the  usual  view,  that  of  looking  with  the  eyes  on 
the  thing,  and  consider  merely  the  subjective  impression  the 
thing  makes  upon  us,  and  observe  that  it  is  a  knowledge, 
first,  of  its  existence  as  something  distinct  from  self,  and 
secondly,  as  something  made  known  to  us  by  virtue  of  a 
single  special  quality.  This  wholly  subjective  view  of  the 
brain  as  an  existing,  qualified  thing,  taken  by  the  psycholo- 
gist, is  very  different  from  the  wholly  objective  view  of  the 
brain,  taken  by  the  anatomist  and  phj^siologist ;  but  that  it 
is  identically  the  same  thing  that  presents  these  different 
aspects  is  unquestionable. 


THE  SOMATIC  SENSES.  17 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    SOMATIC    SENSES. 

§  22.  The  organ  of  the  sense  of  touch  is  the  skin.  It 
consists  of  a  superficial  layer,  the  epidermis,  and  a  sub- 
jacent layer,  the  dermis,  in  which  capillary  nerves  terminate. 
"Where  the  sense  is  delicate,  as  at  the  finger  tips,  the  dermis 
rises  into  many  small,  close-set,  conical  papillse,  whose  apexes 
come  near  the  outer  surface  of  the  epidermis.  Eacb  of  these 
cones  is  supplied  with  a  tactile  nerve  and  corpuscle.^  Super- 
ficially the  skin  is  subdivided  into  small  tracts  presenting 
the  appearance  of  network,  and  varying  in  size,  being  small 
at  the  finger-tips  and  many  times  larger  on  the  back.  Each 
tract  is  supplied  with  the  capillaries  of  a  single  nerve  fibre, 
and  capable  of  imparting  only  a  single  sense-perception.^ 

The  epidermis  is  an  intermediary,  the  impact  that  stimu- 
lates the  nerve  being  transmitted  through  its  horny  sub- 
stance to  the  subjacent  ends  of  the  nerve.  The  thickness  or 
extent  of  the  intermediary  seems  less  important  than  its 
capacity  for  transmitting  impulses.  The  finger  nail  drawn 
over  a  surface  affords  a  most  delicate  test  of  its  smoothness.^ 

1  At  the  finger  tips  about  one  hundred  of  these  corpuscles  may  be  counted 
in  an  area  j\  inch  square.    Elsewhere  they  are  more  sparse. 

-  E.  H.  "Weber,  who  made  many  experiments  determinative  of  the  relation 
of  sense-perception  to  its  excitant,  found  that  two  points  can  be  distinguished 
by  the  tongue  when  only  J^  inch  apart ;  by  the  finger  tips  when  only  Jg  inch 
apart ;  while  they  may  be  one  inch  apart  on  the  cheek,  and  even  2\  inches 
apart  on  portions  of  the  back,  and  yet  seem  single.  The  areas,  having  these 
distances  for  diameters,  Weber  calls  "circles  of  sensation." 

3  This  was  the  ancient  statuary's  test  of  the  smoothness  of  his  marble. 
Horace  uses  it  figuratively  to  express  perfection  :  "  Ad  unguem  f actus  homo." 
—  Iter  Brun.,  1.  30.  The  phrase  came  from  the  Greeks  :  eh  6vvxol.  We  some- 
times say, '  perfect  to  a  nail.' 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

With  a  rod  in  hand,  one  is  able  to  judge  very  well  of  the 
irresfularities  in  an  unseen  surface.  In  this  case  the  inter- 
mediary  is  vastly  increased  without  proportionally  diminish- 
ing the  delicacy  and  accuracy  of  the  perceptive  power.  Some 
intermediary  is  necessary ;  for  if  the  epidermis  be  removed 
and  contact  occur  with  the  naked  nerve,  the  sensation  is  one 
of  pure  pain  merely,  very  different  from  tactile  sensation. 

§  23.  The  skin  in  certain  places  where  perception  is  feeble 
is  highly  sensitive,  as  on  the  cheek ;  and  where  perception 
is  acute,  as  at  the  finger  tips,  the  sensation  is  commonly 
obtuse.  The  sensation  is  a  familiar  titillation,  usually  agree- 
able though  unobtrusive  in  its  gentler  forms,  as  the  feel  of 
velvet;  but  it  may  become  disagreeable  and  painful,  as  in 
tickling.^ 

The  percept  is  tangibility,  or  that  quality  of  body  which 
excites  the  sense-perception  in  us  by  impact  or  contact.  This 
does  not  imply  area ;  e.g.  a  pin  point  or  knife  edge.  The 
finger  tips  lightly  tapped  with  a  card  give  pure  tangibility .^ 
To  this  must  be  added  the  modified  forms,  roughness  and 
smoothness.  If  the  card  be  drawn  along  the  finger  tips,  we 
experience  one  or  the  other.  To  produce  these  forms,  motion 
of  the  surface  touched  is  essential ;  but  of  the  motion,  touch 
does  not  inform  us.^ 

1  It  should  be  observed  here  that  there  are  other  cutaneous  sensations,  as 
clamminess,  temperature,  and  others.  They  belong  to  the  sensus  vcKjits,  §  20. 
Also,  that  even  at  the  finger  tips  the  sensation  may  become  predominant,  as 
in  touching  a  revolving  grindstone. 

2  A  drop  of  water  falling  on  the  palm,  or  the  breath  blown  on  the  fingers, 
also  excite  the  tactile  sense-pcrce])tion.  Any  motion  of  the  fingers,  hand, 
or  arm,  in  what  is  called  "active  touch,"  or  any  perceptible  pressure,  con- 
fuses the  tactile  with  muscular  sense-perception,  and  with  volition.  In  no 
treatise  I  have  seen  are  these  properly  discriminated.  Incomplete  analysis 
causes  doctrinal  confusion.  Hamilton  even  says  :  "  The  organ  of  touch  [the 
fingers]  requires,  as  a  condition  of  its  exercise,  the  movement  of  the  volun- 
tary muscles."  —  Metd.,  p.  ;378. 

3  "  I  would  establish,"  says  Hamilton,  "as  a  fundamental  position  of  the 
doctrine  of  immediate  perception,  the  opinion  of  Democritus  [the  Atomist, 


THE  SOMATIC  SENSES.  19 

§  24.  An  impact,  say  on  the  finger  tips,  excites  the  fibres 
of  the  tactile  nerves  ;  these  convey  the  impression  to  the 
intercranial  sensory,  and  consciousness  ensues.  The  impres- 
sion is  attended  by  a  vague  sense  of  locality.  Hence,  analo- 
gous to  sight,  the  percept  of  touch  is  primarily  a  special 
sensorial  excitement,  tangibility,  with  its  modes  roughness 
and  smoothness,  and  secondarily,  extension  implied  in  the 
sense  of  locality.  The  extension  herein  given  belongs  to  my 
own  nervous  organism.  The  locality  on  the  periphery,  the 
exact  place  touched,  is  not  consciously  given,  but  subse- 
quently inferred  from  experience  and  observation.^ 

in  his  work  ^/cp6s  Atd/cocr/ios,  420  b.c,  rejected  by  Aristotle  in  De  Sensu  et 
Sensili,  cli.  iv.]  that  all  our  senses  are  only  modifications  of  touch;  in 
other  words,  that  the  external  object  of  perception  is  always  in  contact  with 
the  organ  of  sense."  —Meta.,  p.  375.  Herbert  Spencer  says  :  "  Not  only  do 
the  conclusions  of  the  physicists  support  the  doctrine  which  Democritus 
taught,  but  the  conclusions  of  the  biologists  do  the  Uke.  The  organs  of  the 
special  senses  are  every  one  of  them  developed  from  the  dermal  system,  are 
modifications  of  that  same  tissue  in  which  the  tactile  sense  in  general  is 
seated.  Nor  is  this  all.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  eye  and  the  ear 
are,  in  their  types  of  structure,  morphologically  identical  with  the  vibrissce, 
or  most  perfect  organs  of  touch."  —  Pj-m.  Psyc,  §  139,  and  Prin.  Bio.,  §  295. 
The  reduction,  if  correct,  seems  of  little  consequence. 

1  Here  again  we  hit  upon  the  difficult  question  of  the  genesis  of  the  appre- 
hension of  space.  See  §  19.  That  touch,  as  well  as  sight,  is  cognizant  of 
extension  is  generally  admitted,  but  explanations  greatly  differ.  The  view 
proposed  in  the  text,  that  touch  originally  gives  as  a  secondary  percept  a 
vague  sense  of  locality,  is  so  far  nativist.  That  a  more  exact  knowledge  of 
the  locality  on  the  periphery  is  obtained  only  as  the  result  of  education, 
belongs  rather  to  the  genetic  or  empirical  doctrine.  But  it  must  be  added 
that  the  native  cognizance  of  extension  of  body  by  both  sight  and  touch  is 
an  empirical  occasion  for  the  pure  intellectual  apprehension  of  the  notion 
of  space.     This  point  will  be  more  fully  expounded  hereafter. 

Lotze  transformed  the  strictly  empirical  hypothesis  into  one  more  meta- 
physical and  elaborate,  called  the  hypothesis  of  local  signs.  Each  feeling- 
point  of  the  body,  each  "circle  of  sensation"  on  the  skin,  each  sensitive 
point  on  the  retinal  expanse,  has  its  local  sign.  This  implies  no  original 
localization  or  cognizance  of  extension,  but  simply  that  each  tactile  or  visual 
impression  presents  a  peculiar  character  (^nuance)  that  serves  later  to  localize 
it  at  a  certain  point  of  the  body.  At  first  these  impressions  are  purely  inten- 
sive, and  effect  no  special  determination  of  any  kind.     j:,ater  the  mind,  by 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

§  25.  Besides  the  percepts  just  indicated,  touch  is  com- 
monly held  to  give  us  knowledge  of  many  other  qualities  of 
matter,  and  to  tell  us  much  about  the  external  world.  Also 
it  is  described  as  the  instructor  of  the  other  senses,  and  the 
corrector  of  their  aberrations.  This  arises  from  a  confusion 
of  touch  with  the  muscular  sense  and  voluntary  locomotion. 
When  closely  interrogated  apart,  touch  is  silent  concerning 
any  qualities  of  body  other  than  those  named,  and  concern- 
ing even  the  existence  of  an  extra-organic  world.  Nor  is 
touch  capable  of  certain  lines  of  education  commonly  attrib- 
uted to  it,  the  acute  perceptions  of  the  blind  being  dependent 
rather  on  an  educated  muscular  sense. 

§  26.  The  sensor  nerves  of  the  muscles  constitute  the 
ortran  of  the  muscular  sense.  The  terminal  fibres  of  a  dis- 
tinct  set  of  sensor  nerves,  more  sparse  than  those  of  touch, 
are  distributed  to  and  penetrate  the  muscles.^  The  terminal 
fibres  of  the  motor  nerves  also  penetrate  the  muscular  tissue. 
These  motor  nerves,  generally  under  the  influence  of  the  will, 
cause  muscular  contraction,  and  thereby  the  enclosed  sensor 
nerves  are  subjected  to  pressure.  The  pressure,  whether 
produced  thus  or  by  the  action  of  an  exterior  body,  stimu- 
lates the  sensor  nerves,  causing  a  neural  disturbance  which 
is  propagated  to  the  brain,  and  a  sense-perception  of  physical 
solidity  is  the  result.^ 

§  27.   Tn  order  to  observe  the  pure  muscular  sense-percep- 

virtue  of  laws  peculiarly  its  own,  transforms  these  intensive  data  into  exten- 
sive quantities,  and  produces  "a  reconstruction  of  space."  —  Ribot,  p.  100. 

"Wundt  accepts  this  hypothesis  of  local  signs,  but  deems  it  insuthcient. 
He  rejects  the  a  priori  laws  of  mind  in  the  case,  and  adds  that  the  different 
impressions  being  accompanied  by  voluntary  movement,  there  attends  tlieiu 
a  feeling  of  innervation,  i.e.  of  the  nervous  discharge  that  attends  voluntary 
effort.  These  two  elements,  local  signs  and  movement,  explain  localization. 
Neither  alone  would  give  it,  but  the  two,  by  a  psychological  synthesis,  form 
a  combination  which  is,  on  occasion,  the  notion  of  space. 

1  Demonstrated  by  Sachs  in  1874. 

2  Tor  historical  notices  of  the  muscular  sense,  see  Hamilton  in  lieid,  p.  867. 


THE    SOMATIC  tiENSJES.  21 

tion,  some  care  is  requisite  that  it  be  not  mixed  with  that  of 
touch,  or  modified  by  voluntary  effort  and  movement.  The 
weight  of  a  limb  freely  hanging  gives  the  simple  and  pure 
muscular  sense-perception.^ 

The  sensation  is  clearly  marked  as  pleasurable  or  painful. 
The  pleasure  of  physical  exercise  arises  mostly  from  muscular 
sensations,  and  also  the  pleasant  feeling  in  stretching.  Fatigue 
is  perhaps  an  increased  degree  of  the  feeling  that  accompanies 
all  muscular  exertion,  and  when  moderate  is  not  unpleasant. 
In  straining  and  in  cramp  the  violent  contraction  of  the  mus- 
cles causes  an  extremely  painful  pressure  on  the  nerves. 

The  percept  is  physical  solidity  or  impenetrability,  one  of 
the  defining  qualities  of  body.  To  this  must  be  added  its 
modifications  arising  from  gravity,  known  as  heavy  and  light, 
and  from  cohesion,  known  as  hard  and  soft.  As  immecUately 
perceived,  these  are  affections  of  the  excited  sensory,  which 
we  learn  to  attribute  to  external  bodies,  meaning  that  they 
have  power  to  cause  these  sensorial  states  in  us. 

In  different  parts  of  the  general  organ,  as  in  case  of  touch, 
sensation  and  perception  vary  inversely.  In  many  parts  the 
perceptive  power  is  very  acute,  is  a  most  important  means  of 
information,  and  is  susceptible  of  high  education. 

It  must  be  noted  that  the  skin  under  pressure,  as  when 
slightly  pinched,  gives  quite  the  same  sense-perception,  and 
so  far  coincides  with  muscular  sense.  But,  let  it  be  observed, 
this  impression  is  very  different  from  the  tactile  impression 
proper,  one  point  of  difference  being  that  the  latter  is  acute, 
the  former  the  massive;  the  one  has  intensity,  the  other 
quantity. 

§  28.  As  the  muscular  sense  is  sometimes  overlooked  or 
not  sharply  discriminated  even  in  scientific  treatises,  we  will 
add  some  illustrations  of  its  special  importance. 

1  Neither  Hamilton  nor  Mansel  attribute  any  special  percept  to  the  mus- 
cular sense  apart  from  voluntary  locomotion.  This  seems  to  be  very  generally 
true  of  both  psychologists  and  physiologists. 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

One's  knowledge  of  the  posture  of  his  body,  as  standing, 
sitting,  or  reclining,  and  of  the  position  and  motion  of  his 
limbs,  is  dependent  on  this  sense.  All  balancing  of  the  body, 
though  usually  assisted  by  the  eye,  is  largely  due  to  the  mus- 
cular sense,  and  this  alone  proves  sufficient  in  the  dark.  In 
the  feats  of  a  tight^rope  dancer,  we  see  it  highly  educated. 
Also  in  the  skilful  handling  of  tools.  In  general,  the  vary- 
ing pressures  on  the  muscular  sensor  nerves  furnish  intima- 
tions that  enable  us  to  control  our  movements  intelligently.^ 

The  soles  of  the  feet  are  higlily  sensitive  to  touch,  and  but 
feebly  perceptive ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  muscular 
sensation  caused  by  their  pressure  under  the  Aveight  of  the 
body  is  unobtrusive,  and  the  percej^tive  power  remarkably 
acute.  The  tactile  sense-perception  is  largely  eliminated  by 
wearing  shoes,  and  it  is  by  the  muscular  sense  that  we  take 
knowledge  of  the  ground  we  step  upon.  Its  importance  in 
walking  is  evident. 

Our  estimate  of  the  weight  of  a  body  held  in  the  hand  is 
muscular  and  quite  delicate.^  The  small  muscles  moving  the 
eyeballs  greatly  assist  us,  by  their  various  tensions,  to  judge 
of  the  direction,  distance,  and  size  of  visible  objects.  The 
tongue  is  not  only  the  organ  of  taste,  and  exceedingly  sensi- 
tive to  touch  and  to  temperature,  but  it  is  also  a  very  delicate 
muscular  organ.  By  a  distinct  set  of  sensor  nerves  we  are 
enabled  to  know  the  posture  of  the  tongue,  and  to  adjust  it 

1  ' '  The  effort  needed  for  the  support  of  the  body  is  ordinarily  kept  np  by 
the  muscular  sense.  But  if  the  sensor  nerve  of  the  leg  be  paralyzed,  the 
contraction  of  its  muscles  cannot  be  sustained  by  the  strongest  effort  of  the 
will  unless  sight  be  made  to  replace  the  lost  feeling.  The  existence  of  this 
partial  paralysis  may  sometimes  be  recognized  by  the  persistent  looking 
downward  of  those  who  suffer  from  it ;  for  if  whilst  walking  thej''  were  to  - 
withdraw  their  eyes  from  their  feet,  their  legs  would  give  way  under  them." 
—  Dk.  Carpenter,  Mental  Phijmology,  §  192.     See  also  §  80. 

2  The  estimate  is  determined  by  two  considerations,  —  the  pressure  on  the 
muscles  underlying  it,  and  the  tension  of  those  of  the  arm.  By  the  former 
alone  Weber  found  he  could  distinguish  between  14]  and  15  oz.  ;  but  when 
the  weight  was  lifted,  exciting  the  muscles  of  the  arm,  he  could  then  distin- 
guisli  between  19]  and  20  oz. 


THE   SOMATIC  SENSES.  23 

at  will.     Upon  this  fact  largely  depends  the  power  of  articu- 
late speech. 

Habitually,  by  an  act  of  will,  we  fix  certain  muscles  in  a 
state  of  tension,  and  then  trust  them  without  further  thought 
or  volition,  though  we  are  probably  conscious,  obscurely  and 
continuously,  of  their  tension.  Thus  the  muscles  of  the  fore- 
arm keep  the  pen  lightly  held  by  the  fingers  while  one  is 
thinking  what  to  write,  the  eyes  remain  open,  the  mouth 
closed,  and  the  muscles  of  the  back  keep  the  body  erect, 
without  attention.  A  muscle  thus  fixed,  like  a  soldier  at  an 
appointed  post,  does  not  relax  until  the  order  from  head- 
quarters is  withdrawn  or  a  new  one  given.  There  is  hardly 
a  waking  moment  when  many  muscles  are  not  thus  at  ap- 
pointed service,  and  but  for  their  faithfulness  when  not  under 
the  eye  of  attention  we  should  be  incapable  of  our  most  ordi- 
nary occupations.  When  sleep  overcomes  us,  will  resigns, 
these  tensions  relax,  and  the  system  finds  relief  and  repose. 

§  29.  An  observation  on  the  sensus  vagus^  the  vital  or 
organic  sense,  may  be  inserted  here.  It  might  be  subdivided 
into  a  number  of  special  senses  pertaining  to  the  nutritive 
and  other  vital  functions,  and  concerned  with  health  and  dis- 
ease. They  are  highly,  almost  wholly,  subjective,  appearing 
in  visceral  sensations,  marked  as  agreeable  when  normal  and 
healthful,  but  in  case  of  disorder,  strongly  marked  as  dis- 
agreeable and  often  painful.  In  many  cases  they  are  diffused 
through  the  system,  as  restlessness,  faintness,  and  the  idio- 
pathic sensations  generally. 

A  number  of  organic  senses  are  classed  as  desires  under  the 
name  of  appetites,  as  hunger,  thirst,  drowsiness,  etc.  This  is 
the  case  when  to  the  sensation  is  superadded  a  want,  a  long- 
ing for  some  physical  alterative.  These  will  be  considered 
more  specifically  in  their  proper  place  under  the  head  of 
Desires. 

The  sensations  of  heat  and  cold,  being  felt  acutely  by  the 
skin,  have   commonly  been  attril)uted   to    touch.     But   the 


24  INTE  OB  UCTION. 

cheeks  are  more  sensitive  to  temperature  tlian  the  lips,^  and 
the  palms  than  the  linger  tips ;  so  that  sensitiveness  to  tem- 
perature does  not  correspond  to  tactile  sensibility.  The 
nerves  exciting  a  sense  of  temperature  constitute  probably  a 
system  distinct  from  the  tactile  nerves.  Certain  minute  areas 
of  the  skin,  called  "  temperature  spots,"  and  these  only,  re- 
spond to  thermal  stimulus.  Pricking  them  does  not  give 
pain,  nor  tactile  sensation,  but  only  a  sense  of  heat  or  cold. 
For  some  of  these  minute  areas,  the  "  cold  spots,"  are  sensi- 
tive to  cold  only ;  others,  the  "  heat  spots,"  to  heat  only. 
They  are  very  irregularly  distributed,  but  where  the  skin  is 
most  sensitive  to  either  temperature,  the  corresponding  kind 
of  spot  is  most  numerous.  These  facts,  and  the  fact  that  the 
sense  of  temperature  is  more  percipient  than  the  vital  senses 
generally,  suggest  that  it  might  fairly  be  classed  as  a  sensus 
fixus? 

All  overstrained  sensations  are  painful.  But  there  is  a 
form  of  physical  pain  which  may  be  distinguished  from  all 
others ;  it  is  the  pain  attendant  on  lesion.  Since  it  is  unac- 
companied by  any  perceptional  phase,  it  may  be  called  pure 
pain.3  We  are  wholly  occupied  with  the  subjective  state, 
and  perception  seems  reduced  to  zero.     The  distinction  be- 

1  The  cheeks  burn  with  a  blush.  A  laundress  usually  tests  her  smoothing- 
iron  by  holding  it  near  her  cheek.  The  elbow  is  very  sensitive  to  tempero/- 
ture,  and  the  German  mother  tests  the  baby's  bath  with  it  rather  than  with 
her  hand. 

2  Weber  found  that  by  the  finger  he  could  perceive  a  difference  of  about 
1°  F.,  which  is  less  than  that  marked  on  common  thermometers.  We  call 
a  body  cold  when  it  draws  heat  from  us,  and  warm  when  it  imparts  heat. 
The  human  zero  is  about  98°  F.  That  of  cold-blooded  animals  must  be 
lower. 

3  Weber  observes  that  if  we  place  the  edge  of  a  sharp  knife  gently  on  the 
skin,  tactile  sensation  is  experienced,  and  perception  attributes  to  the  edge 
tangibility.  But  if  we  press  on  it  and  cut  the  skin,  the  feeling  is  one  differ- 
ing not  merely  in  degree,  but  distinctly  in  kind.  We  feci  pure  pain,  a  feeling 
not  attributed  to  tlie  knife  by  any  accompanying  perceptional  power ;  for  the 
knife  is  recognized  as  the  cause  quite  indirectly,  only  through  the  senses- 
proper. 


THE  SOMATIC  SENSES.  25 

tween  pure  pain  and  that  attending  sense-perceptions  is  in 
many  cases  obscure,  especially  in  the  idiopathic  sensations  of 
numbness,  nervousness,  shuddering,  and  the  like ;  but  in 
general  it  may  be  described  as  the  pain  attending  lesion,  dis- 
order, disorganization,  and  death. 

Physiologically  and  pathologically  the  senstts  vagus  is  of 
the  highest  interest,  but  its  study  has  added  little  to  the 
knowledge  of  mind. 

§  30.  If  the  foregoing  views  be  correct,  it  is  evident  that, 
were  we  limited  to  the  perceptions  of  sense,  we  would  be  shut 
up  from  a  knowledge  of  the  outer  world,  for  no  one  of  the 
senses,  nor  any  combination  of  them,  reveals  to  us  aught  be- 
yond certain  states  of  our  own  nervous  organism.  It  will  be 
hereafter  explained  that  it  is  the  power  of  voluntary  locomo- 
tion, combined  with  sense-perception,  that  gives  knowledge 
of  external  body,  and  introduces  us  to  the  outer  material 
universe. 


20  INTRODUCTION. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  NERVOUS   ORGANISM. 

§  31.  Having  spoken  of  the  senses  specially,  we  proceed  to 
examine  the  sentient  or  nervous  organism  generally,  in  order 
that  we  may  better  understand  the  relation  of  consciousness 
to  our  physical  changes. 

Physiologists  distinguish  two  nervous  systems,  —  the  sym- 
pathetic and  the  cerebro-spinal.  The  former  consists  chiefly 
of  a  double  chain  of  nervous  ganglia  lying  at  the  sides  and 
in  front  of  the  spinal  column,  and  connected  vnth.  one 
another  and  with  the  spinal  nerves  by  commissural  cords. 
From  these  ganglia  nerve  trunks  are  given  off,  which  are 
distributed  in  filaments  for  the  most  part  to  the  vessels 
of  the  body.  Accordingly,  this  sympathetic  system  is  re- 
lated especially  to  the  viscera.  It  influences  the  muscles 
of  the  vessels  generally,  those  of  the  heart,  of  the  intestines, 
and  others.  The  action  of  these  muscles  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  volition,  and  normally  not  attended  by  consciousness. 
Hence  we  may  omit  any  special  consideration  of  the  sympa- 
thetic system. 

§  32.  The  cerebro-spinal  system  consists  of  the  cerebro- 
spinal axis,  and  the  nerves  branching  from  it.  The  axis  con- 
sists of  the  brain  and  the  spinal  cord.  The  nerves  are  of 
two  sorts.  First,  the  afferent  nerves,  which  convey  influences 
from  the  periphery  toward  the  centre  of  ramification,  and 
are  mostly  sensor  nerves  exciting  the  brain,  and  so  causing 
sense-perceptions.  Secondly,  the  efferent  nerves,  which 
convey  influences  from  the  centre  of  la  mi  neat  ion  toward  the 


THE  NERVOUS   ORGANISM.  27 

periphery,    and   are    mostly   motor   nerves    contracting    the 
muscles.^ 

§  33.  There  are  twelve  pairs  of  cerebral  nerves.  The 
first  pair,  the  olfactory  nerves,  seem  to  be  direct  processes 
of  the  cerebral  hemispheres  or  upper  lobes  of  the  brain. 
The  second  pair,  the  optic  nerves,  are  traceable  through 
the  central  organs,  called  t|ie  optic  thalami,  into  the  cere- 
bral hemispheres.  The  rest  seem  to  emanate  from  the 
medulla  oblongata,  the  lowest  member  of  the  brain.  The 
peripheral  terminations  of  eight  of  these  are  distributed,  some 
to  the  skin  of  the  face,  and  to  the  cephalic  sense  organs, 
others  to  the  related  muscles.  Some  are  afferent  sensor 
nerves ;  others  are  efferent  motor  nerves.  The  two  remain- 
ing pairs  of  cerebral  nerves  pass  into  the  trunk. 

§  34.  The  s^^inal  cord  is  a  column  of  soft  gray  and  white 
neural  substance,  extending  down  from  the  medulla  oblon- 
gata, with  which  it  is  continuous,  nearly  to  the  second  lumbar 
vertebra,  where  it  tapers  off.  It  is  divided  longitudinally  by 
deep  fissures  into  two  lateral  halves  connected  by  a  narrow 
bridge. 

There  are  thirty-one  pairs  of  spinal  nerves.  They  branch 
off  in  two  lateral  series,  one  from  each  half  of  the  cord.  Each 
trunk  nerve  has  two  distinct  roots  connecting  it  with  the 
cord,  one  afferent  and  sensor,  the  other  efferent  and  motor. 
After  some  continuity  the  trunk  nerve  subdivides ;  one  por- 
tion, the  motor,  after  many  further  ramifications,  is  distributed, 
in  minute  nervous  filaments,  to  the  voluntary  muscles ;  the 
other  portion,  the  sensor,  after  similar  subdivisions,  is  ulti- 
mately distributed  for  the  most  part  to  the  skin.  Every 
voluntary  muscle  of  the  trunk  and  limbs  is  penetrated 
throughout  its  mass  by  filaments  of  the  motor  nerves,  and 
the  entire  area  of  the  skin  has  underlying  it  a  complexus 

^  The  distinction  between  sensor  and  motor  nerves  was  discovered  and 
demonstrated  by  Sir  Charles  Bell  in  1821,  followed  by  Magendie.  This  dis- 
covery marks  the  most  important  epoch  in  neurological  science. 


28  lyTRODUCTION. 

of  filaments  of  sensor  nerves  so  complete  and  close  that  it 
can  nowhere  be  punctured  by  a  needle  without  irritating- 
them. 

§  35.  When  the  skin,  say  of  the  foot,  is  touched,  the  ter- 
minations of  sensor  nerves  immediately  beneath  are  affected. 
The  molecular  disturbance  thus  begun  is  propagated  at  a  slow 
rate  (about  111  feet  a  second)  along  the  tactile  filaments  to 
the  nerve  trunk,  and  along  that  through  its  posterior  sensor 
root  to  the  spinal  cord  ;  then  along  that  to  the  brain  and 
sensory,  when  consciousness  ensues,  a  sense-perception  of 
contact.  This  continuous  neural  connection  is  requisite  to 
the  normal  excitement  of  the  sensory,  and  the  excitement  of 
the  sensory  is  essential  to  sense-perception. 

Now,  under  the  influence  of  will,  another  disturbance  may 
begin,  which  proceeds  from  the  brain  down  the  spinal  cord, 
out  through  an  anterior  motor  root,  into  and  along  the  trunk, 
then  through  the  nerve  filaments  that  jDenetrate  the  muscles, 
say  of  the  calf  of  the  leg,  which  muscles  thereupon  contract, 
and  the  foot  is  moved.  This  continuous  connection  between 
brain  and  muscle  is  essential  to  voluntary  locomotion. 

§  36.  The  circuit  may  take  place  differently.  If  the  sole 
of  the  foot  be  touched  with  a  feather,  in  an  instant  the  mus- 
cles of  the  leg  contract,  and  the  foot  is  jerked  away.  Con- 
sciousness occurs,  but  too  late  for  the  action.  The  thing  is 
done  before  the  will  has  time  to  act.^  If  the  spinal  cord 
have  suffered  lesion  about  the  middle  of  the  back,  so  great 
as  to  cut  off  communication  between  the  lower  limbs  and  the 
brain,  the  same  action  occurs,  but  without  consciousness.^ 
In  either  case  the  action  is  involuntary,  instinctive,  auto- 
matic. 

1  This  movement  is  made  by  a  sleeping  person.  The  hand  of  a  babe  asleep 
will  close  upon  a  coin  as  quickly  and  firmly,  in  proportion  to  its  strength,  as 
th(!  hand  of  a  vigilant  miser. 

'■^  This  case  actually  occurred  with  Dr.  Jolm  Hunter,  who  asked  his  aston- 
islied  patient  if  he  felt  the  tickling.  "No,  sir,"  said  he,  "but  you  see  my 
legs  do."  —  CAKrENTKii,  Mental  J'/tijsiolo(/y,  §  08. 


TUE  NERVOUS   ORGANISM.  29 

The  interpretation  is  that  a  molecular  disturbance  is  prop- 
agated centripetally  from  the  sole  of  the  foot  along  afferent 
nerves  to  ganglia  of  the  spinal  cord,  and  that  it  there  arouses 
a  comparatively  vast  amount  of  molecular  activity,  which  is 
propagated  centrifugally  througli  efferent  fibres  to  the  mus- 
cles of  the  leg.  This  is  called  neural  reflex  action,  which,  in 
general,  may  be  defined  to  be  the  direct  conversion,  at  a 
ganglionic  nerve  centre,  of  afferent  into  efferent  impulses, 
without  the  intervention  of  will,  or  even  of  consciousness.^ 

Many  muscular  activities  are  due  to  reflex  action.  Some 
are  determined  by  the  spinal  ganglia,  as  swallowing,  vomit- 
ing, shuddering;  others,  by  the  brain  (which  comprises 
ganglionic  centres),  as  winking,  and  the  facial  grimace  at  a 
bad  smell.  In  a  number  of  cases  the  involved  sensor  and 
motor  nerves  are  partly  cerebral  and  partly  spinal,  as  in 
breathing,  shrinking  from  a  blow,  and  starting  at  a  sound. 
All  native  reflex  actions,  being  involuntary  and  automatic, 
are  strictly  physical  instincts .^ 

§  37.  A  form  of  activity  originally  voluntary  may  by  fre- 
quent repetition  become  involuntary  and  purely  automatic, 

1  The  reflex  action  of  the  nervous  system  was  discovered  by  Dr.  Marshall 
Hall,  and  announced  in  Philosophical  lyansactions  for  1833.  It  is  evidently 
not  a  mere  rebound,  as  the  phrase  (first  used  by  Astruc)  suggests,  of  the 
afferent  impulse  into  an  efferent  channel,  but  rather  as  if  an  order  were  given 
along  the  afferent  nerve  to  a  ganglionic  centre,  and  executed  by  it  often  with 
a  vast  expenditure  of  force.  An  unexpected  whisper  from  behind,  in  the  ear 
of  a  nervous  person,  is  a  very  slight  impulse,  which  passes  along  the  afferent 
auditory  nerve  to  the  medulla  oblongata,  and  there  causes  a  kind  of  explosion 
which  affects  the  majority  of  the  motor  nerves  of  the  whole  body,  manifest 
in  a  violent  convulsive  start,  to  which  is  added  perhaps  a  scream,  all  this 
enormously  disproportioned  result  being  involuntary,  instinctive  reflex  action. 

2  In  the  winking  that  moistens  or  guards  the  eye,  the  optic  nerves  are  the 
afferent,  and  the  facial  nerves  the  efferent,  channels.  In  the  grimace  at  a 
bad  smell,  the  olfactoiy  nerves  are  the  afferent,  and  the  facial  nerves  again 
the  efferent,  channels.  All  these  nerves  are  cerebral.  Other  examples  are 
the  contraction  of  the  iris  under  the  stimulus  of  strong  light,  the  contraction 
of  the  ciliary  muscle  in  the  adjustment  of  the  eye  to  distinct  vision,  and  the 
muscular  adjustment  of  the  tension  of  the  tympanic  membrane  of  the  ear  to 
sounds  of  various  intensity.    The  flow  of  saliva  excited  by  a  sapid  body,  and 


30  INTRODUCTION. 

the  activity  being  then  determined  wholly  by  the  reflex 
action  of  the  nervous  system.  In  the  process  there  is 
a  gradual  and  more  or  less  complete  transfer  from  mental 
ao-ency  to  physical  agency.  This  is  muscular  education,  the 
acciuisition  by  repetition  of  a  physical  habit  or  muscular 
dexterity.  Examples  are,  learning  to  walk,  to  dance,  to 
write,  to  handle  tools,  to  play  a  musical  instrument.  Such 
actions  are  never  performed  with  ease,  grace,  and  skill,  until 
they  have  become  largely  mechanical,  and  the  performer  an 
automaton.  An  act  of  volition  is  usually  requisite  to  start 
the  series  of  movements,  which  then  continues  automatically 
by  mere  reflex  action.  Being  obscurely  conscious  of  the 
series  as  a  whole,  without  distinguishing  its  members,  we 
superintend  its  course,  and  are  ready  at  any  instant  to  inter- 
fere by  volition,  and  so  check,  modify,  or  suspend  the 
action.^ 

It  is  evident  that  in   reflex  action  we  have  a  complete 

the  flow  of  tears  excited  by  a  mote  in  the  eye,  are  remarkable  as  reflex  action 
on  glands  instead  of  muscles. 

In  many  cases  the  nerves  belong  partly  to  the  cerebral  and  partly  to  the 
spinal  series.  For  example,  the  sucking  of  an  infant.  Cold  on  the  face,  as 
from  the  action  of  a  fan,  stimulates  respiration.  When  one's  toes  are  trod 
upon  there  is  a  sudden,  instinctive,  involuntary  outcry  and  a  wry  face. 
Warding  off  a  blow,  and  all  instinctive  gesticulation  are  cases  in  point. 

It  should  be  observed  that  the  reflex  action  upon  the  voluntary  muscles 
can  be  more  or  less  completely  inhibited  by  the  will  of  the  patient.  If  he 
anticipates  the  consequence  of-  the  impression,  he  can  in  most  cases  prevent 
its  occurrence  by  a  resolute  resistance.  E.g.  writhing,  jerking,  and  laughing, 
the  natural  effects  of  tickling,  may  all  be  restrained,  and  (juiet  maintained 
under  it.  The  inhibition  in  many  cases  may  become  habitual,  and  the  mus- 
cles cease  to  respond  to  the  excitation. 

1  In  walking,  the  reflex  action  is  sustained  by  the  successive  pressures  of 
the  feet  on  the  ground,  each  of  these  exciting  the  next  movement.  Numerous 
instances  are  on  record  of  a  soldier  continuing  to  march  although  fallen 
asleep. 

Houdin  practised  juggling  with  balls  until  he  could  keep  in  the  air  four 
balls  at  once.  He  then  accustomed  himself,  still  keeping  the  balls  going, 
to  read  without  hesitation  or  distraction.  —  Autobioffraphy,  p.  2(5.  I  myself 
have  seen  a  pianist  reading  a  novel  placed  on  the  music  desk  while  i)ractising 
intricate  finger  exercises. 


THE  NEEVOUS   ORGANISM.  31 

explanation  of  acquired  skill,  dexterities,  and  habits,  without 
recourse  to  a  theory  of  obliviscence,  or  to  one  of  latent  voli- 
tions or  other  unconscious  modes  of  mind.  It  is  an  exjolana- 
tion  now  universally  approved,  and  transfers  the  further 
consideration  of  these  phenomena  from  psychology  to  physi- 
ology. 

§  38.  The  anatomy  of  the  brain  is  intricate,  and  the  func- 
tions of  its  members  are  obscure.  The  lowest  part  is  the 
medulla  oblongata,  into  which  the  spinal  cord  passes  insen- 
sibly. In  rear  of  its  upper  portion  is  a  laminated  spheroidal 
mass  called  the  cerebellum.  Above  and  in  front  of  these 
stands  the  cerebrum,  consisting  of  two  symmetrical  halves, 
called  the  cerebral  hemispheres,  connected  by  a  voluminous 
commissure.  Each  hemisphere  presents  a  central  mass  and  a 
peripheral  envelope,  which  last  is  marked  superficially  by 
numerous  and  intricate  convolutions.^ 

§  39.  The  neural  matter  of  the  organism  in  general  is  of 
two  sorts,  —  the  white  and  the  gray  matter.  The  white  matter 
is  fibrous  in  structure,  even  where  it  lies  in  masses ;  the  gray 
matter  is  cellular.  The  nerve  fibres  and  trunks  consist  of 
white  matter.  The  spinal  cord  and  the  medulla  consist  of 
both,  the  white  outside,  the  gray  within.  The  cerebellum 
and  the  cerebral  hemispheres  also  consist  of  both,  but  with 
them  the  gray  is  outside,  and  the  white  within.  The  central 
mass,  which  presents  a  number  of  distinct  organs,  consists  of 
the  two  kinds  of  matter  variously  intermixed.  Apparently 
the  function  of  the  white  fibrous  matter  is  to  transmit  impres- 
sions ;  that  of  the  gray  cellular  matter,  to  receive,  transform, 
and  emit  impressions. 

The  peripheral  or  outer  organs  of  sense  and  of  motion  are, 

1  "Les  difBcultgs  que  prgsente  I'etude  de  la  physiologie  cerebrale  sont 
grandes.  II  n'y  a  pas  seulement  divergence  d'hypotheses  ;  les  faits  eux- 
memes  ne  sont  point  certains,  et  les  contradictions  abondent.  C'est  dire 
que  la  base  sur  laquelle  doit  s'elever  I'edifice  fait  encore  defaut."  —  M.  de 
Vakigny,  in  Bevue  des  Deux  Mondes,  Oct.  15,  1880.  The  article  reviews 
especially  Dr.  David  Ferrier's  investigations. 


V 


32  INTBODUCTION. 

with  two  exceptions  (sight  and  smell),  connected  by  white 
fibres  with  the  medulla.  This  again  is  similarly  connected 
with  the  various  organs  which  constitute  the  central  mass  of 
each  cerebral  hemisphere.  The  fibres  penetrating  these  organs 
are  probably  in  communication  Avith  their  gray  cellules.  From 
these  cellules  start  out  other  white  fibres,  directed  towards 
the  cortex  of  the  hemispheres,  in  such  vast  numbers  that  the 
white  matter  of  each  hemisphere  presents  the  appearance  of  a 
solid  mass.  These  fibres  terminate  probably  in  the  gray  cel- 
lules of  the  cortex.  The  central  organs  thus  seem  interposed, 
in  the  course  of  the  cerebral  fibres,  between  their  common 
receptacle,  the  medulla,  and  their  central  terminations  in  the 
outer  coating  of  the  brain. 

§  40.  This  anatomical  disposition  seems  to  indicate  that 
the  central  organs  of  the  hemispheres  are  not,  as  has  been 
supposed,  the  place  where  sensitive  impressions  terminate 
and  in  which  motor  incitations  originate.  Rather  the  pe- 
ripheral convoluted  envelope  or  cortex  of  the  hemispheres 
would  seem  to  be  the  seat  of  those  molecular  changes  which 
are  attended  by  consciousness,  and  transform  sensor  into 
motor  influence.  This  is  the  doctrine  which  now  tends  to 
prevail  among  physiologists.  Recent  observations  and  experi- 
ments have  rendered  it  at  least  highly  probable  that  specific 
superficial  tracts  of  the  hemispheres  are  in  their  functions 
essential  to  specific  sense-perceptions,  others  to  voluntary 
muscular  action,  and  yet  others  to  specific  modes  of  intelli- 
gence. Dividing  the  hemispheres  into  three  zones  by  nearly 
vertical  planes,  sense-perception  has  been  attributed  to  the 
cortex  of  the  posterior  zone,  and  the  sight  centres  definitely 
located;  motor  powers  have  been  attributed  to  the  middle 
zone,  and  intellectual  powers  to  the  anterior  zone.^ 

1  Until  quite  recent  times  the  central  mass  was  the  chief  object  of  study, 
and  the  convolutions  were  neglected.  Hippocrates  saw  in  them  only  a  gland  ; 
so  also  Malpighi  and  Vli'ussfns.  liuysoh,  struck  with  their  vascularity,  con- 
sidered them  a  simple  laris  saiujuin ;  Boerhaave  and   Ilallcr  adopted  this 


THE  NERVOUS    ORGANISM.  33 

§  41.  There  is  a  reasonable  supposition  tliat  the  various 
centres  of  the  brain  operate  and  interact,  in  a  manner  akin  to 
the  reflex  action  already  described,  at  times  when  the  mind's 
activity  is  temporarily  suspended  or  engrossed  by  other  impres- 
sions ;  and  that  the  results  of  this  brain  work,  of  which  at  the 
time  we  may  be  wholly  unconscious,  become  manifest  subse- 
quently in  an  increased  facility  of  mental  exercise  in  certain 
directions,  in  new  suggestions,  and  even  in  elaborate  intel- 
lectual products.  This  is  the  hypothesis  of  unconscious  cer- 
ebration. It  serves  to  explain  a  number  of  phenomena  which 
otherwise  are  obscure.  The  invigorating  influence  of  rest  and 
sleep  is  no  doubt  due  to  the  restoration  of  nervous  waste,  and 
a  readjustment  of  functional  powers.     The  refreshment  found 

conclusion.  Vicq  d'Azyr  was  the  first  to  examine  their  structure ;  since 
tlien  Baillarger,  Ehrenberg,  Purkinje,  Meynert,  Luys,  Betz,  and  Charcot 
have  made  them  precisely  known.     So  much  for  the  anatomy. 

As  for  the  physiology,  Gall  maintained  that  intelligence  is  a  function  of 
the  convolutions  ;  Desmoulins,  that  it  is  in  direct  proportion  to  their  number 
and  depth ;  which,  indeed,  seems  to  have  been  affirmed  by  Erasistratus,  the 
grandson  of  Aristotle.  In  1861,  Broca,  taking  the  notions  and  facts  of  Dax 
and  Bouilland,  and  adding  his  own  views,  announced  the  first-known  localiza- 
tion, that  of  articulate  speech  or  word-forming  ijower,  in  the  third  frontal 
convolution  of  the  left  hemisphere. 

In  1870  two  German  savans,  Eritsch  and  Hitzig,  passed  a  current  of 
electricity  across  the  head  behind  the  ears,  and  observed  that  it  deter- 
mined the  movement  of  the  eyes.  This  was  an  epoch-making  discovery. 
By  varying  the  experiments  it  was  established  that  in  the  periphery  of  the 
brain  there  is  a  part  appropriate  to  the  production  of  movements,  i.e.  a  motor 
region  ;  and  another  where  excitation  does  not  pi'ovoke  any  exterior  manifes- 
tation, i.e.  a  non-motor  region.  Moreover,  the  motor  region  is  stibdivided 
into  a  certain  number  of  small  tracts,  each  of  which  presides  over  the  motion 
of  a  particular  group  of  muscles,  and  of  this  group  only.  Such  is  the  point 
of  deijarture  of  the  theory  of  cerebral  localization. 

David  Eerrier  advanced  beyond  these  conclusions,  and  it  appears  to  result 
from  his  investigations  that  the  convolutions,  both  in  man  and  in  brutes,  are 
divided  into  three  regions,  as  stated  above  in  the  text.  See  his  Functions 
of  the  Brain.  Of  late  the  matter  has  been  much  discussed,  and  authorities 
greatly  differ.  Adhuc  sub  judice  lis  est.  The  literature  is  abundant.  The 
reader  may  profitably  consult  Ladd's  Outlines  of  Physiological  rsychology 
(1891),  chs.  8  and  9.  Also  Am.  Journal  of  Psychology,  April,  1891  ;  article 
iii.,  on  Cerebral  Localization. 


34  IN  TE  OD  UCTION. 

in  passing  from  one  mental  occupation  to  another  is  due  to 
the  employment  of  a  different  set  of  organs,  giving  the  others 
time  for  renewal.  It  seems,  therefore,  no  very  violent  suppo- 
sition that  the  brain,  apart  from  all  consciousness,  may  evolve 
actual  products  which  afterward  come  into  mind,  and  startle 
us  as  strange,  unsought,  unexpected. 

We  have  seen  that  conscious  voluntary  exercise  of  the 
muscles  becomes  by  repetition  involuntary  and  automatic, 
and  is  performed  under  nervous  influences  with  a  minimum 
of  consciousness,  or  perhaps  unconsciously.  Similarl}',  the 
brain  may  fairly  be  supposed  to  acquire  habits,  and  to  operate 
with  facility  along  certain  lines  of  preferred  activity  inde- 
pendently of  consciousness.  This  analogy  goes  to  support 
the  hypothesis  of  automatic  brain  action,  or  unconscious 
cerebration.! 

§  42.  In  psychology  proper  or  pure,  which  is  altogether 
subjective,  being  concerned  only  with  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness, there  is  no  need  to  determine  the  functions  of  the  vari- 
ous brain  organs,  or  to  fix  upon  distinct  sensor  and  motor 
centres,  or  to  ascertain  what  work  the  brain  does  apart  from 
mind.  These  interesting  and  important  questions  belong 
rather  to  physiological  psychology.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  cerebral  hemispheres  are  the  seat  of  physical  powers  essen- 
tial to  the  phenomena  of  consciousness.  This  general  fact  of 
neurology  is  sulhcient  for  psychology  ;  and  so,  when  occasion 
requires  the  reference,  we  shall  continue,  as  heretofore,  to 
designate  in  an  indefinite  way,  the  brain  organ,  or  complexus 
of  organs,  whose  functional  exercise  is  attended  by  conscious- 
ness, as  the  sensory,  and  the  place  within  the  cranium  where 
this  exercise  occurs,  as  the  sensorium.^ 

1  See  Dr.  Carpenter's  Mental  Phijsiolof/fj,  ch.  13,  for  arguments  and 
striking  illustrations. 

"  Seiisoriuni  is  a  place,  not  an  organ.  "Bene  multi  barbarum  scholastico- 
runi,  qui  interduin  sunt  siniia;  GnBCorum,  tlicunt  AiffOrjrripLov.  Ex  quo  illi 
fecerunt  sensitorium  pro  sensorio,  id  est,  organum  sensationis."  —  Goclenils, 
Lexicon  Philosophicum,  ad  verb.     Leibnitz  emphasizes  this. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL   PSYCHOLOGY.  35 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PHYSIOLOGICAL  PSYCHOLOGY. 

§  43.  It  is  evident  that  the  facts  considered  in  the  preced- 
ing chapters  are  in  the  main  physiological,  and  that  the 
inferences  have  been  made  from  this  objective  standpoint. 
The  neural  functions,  especially  relative  to  sense-perception, 
have  been  briefly  treated,  and  some  important  general  conclu- 
sions reached  respecting  the  relation  of  physical  to  subjective 
or  psychical  states.  The  whole  of  this  introductory  part, 
might,  therefore,  be  included  under  the  title  of  Physiological 
Psychology,  which  has  been  widely  described  as  "  psychology 
approached  from  the  physiological  side  or  point  of  view,"  and 
more  accurately  defined  as  "  the  science  of  the  phenomena  of 
human  consciousness  in  their  relations  to  the  structure  and 
functions  of  the  nervous  system."  ^ 

But  the  phrase  may  be  fairly,  and  indeed  is  commonly, 
understood  to  refer  specifically  to  certain  researches  with 
their  results  which  have  been  prosecuted  with  great  zeal  of 
late  years.  The  investigator,  starting  with  physiological 
facts,  and  seeking  to  discover  what  elementary  psychological 
facts  are  connected  with  them,  adds  external  experiment  to 
internal  observation.  He  begins  without  and  seeks  to  pene- 
trate within  experimentally.  The  method  consists  in  varying 
the  external  conditions  that  are  necessary  to  produce  the  in- 
ternal phenomena,  the  former  being  a  doorway  to  the  latter. 
Moreover,  he  proposes,  as  far  as  practicable,  to  measure  the 
quantities  of  the  phenomena,  and  thus  elevate  psychology, 
from  a  science  of  classification  and  description,  to  the  rank  of 

1  Ladd's  Outlines,  p.  5.  See  also  his  more  elaborate  Elements  of  Physio- 
logical Psychology. 


36  INTRODUCTION. 

an  exact  science  in  which  determined  quantities  are  super- 
added to  observed  qualities. ^  Tlie  avowed  end  is  to  con- 
struct a  new  psychology  on  a  new  basis,  the  means  being 
physiological.  This  is  Physiological  Psychology  in  the  nar- 
rower sense.  Accordingly,  under  this  title,  we  now  propose 
to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  the  work  done  and  the  results 
attained,  together  with  an  estimate  of  their  value.^ 

§  44.  Johann  Miiller,  the  famous  physiologist  of  Berlin 
University,  in  metaphysics  a  disciple  of  Kant,  is  the  founder 
of  this  branch  of  psychology.  In  his  great  work  on  physi- 
ology^ he  pays  much  attention  to  psychological  questions, 
and  endeavors  to  assign  an  objective  basis  to  the  subjective 
forms  in  intuition.  He  transformed,  for  example,  the  Kan- 
tian doctrine  of  space,  claiming  that  the  retina  has  a  native 
feelinsr  of  its  extension. 

Subsequently  each  kind  of  sensation  became  an  object  of 
research,  the  qualitative  and  intensive  differences  being  care- 
fidly  estimated.  E.  H.  Weber,  of  Leipsic  (1840),  first  sub- 
jected consciousness  to  methods  of  exact  experiment.  He 
published  the  results  of  nearly  twenty  years  of  the  most 
painstaking  observations  on  the  effects  of  touch  and  pres- 
sure, in  a  Latin  monograph,  and  wrought  out  the  first  form 
of  the  psycho-physical  law,  the  exact  application  of  which 
is  now  reduced  to  narrow  limits  chiefly  by  the  labors  of 
Fechner. 

Helmholtz,  the  physicist  of  Berlin,  having  measured  the 
rate  of  nervous  propagation,  was  followed  by  Donders,  wlio 
attempted  to  determine  the  duration  of  psychic  acts.     Sensa- 

1  Certain  scientists,  pliysicists  especially,  are  disposed  to  claim  that  no 
complement  of  knowledge  can  i^roperly  rank  as  a  science  until  it  has  become 
quantitative.  We  cannot  assent  to  this.  Science  is  primarily  and  essentially 
qualitative  classification.     See  §  50. 

2  See  Ribot's  German  rsycholomi  of  To-day,  to  which  I  am  indebted  for 
many  points.  A  fair  sketch  of  Experimental  Psycholor/n,  by  Professor,  now 
President,  G.  Stanley  Ilall,  will  be  found  in  Mind  for  April,  1885. 

3  Ilandliirh  der  Physioloijir  dcs  ^fens<•hc)l,  2  vols.,  1841-44. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  PSYCHOLOGY.  37 

tion  was  siDecially  studied,  and  inferences  made  to  other 
mental  activities. 

Besides  the  savans  already  named,  Herbart,  Duhois-Rey- 
mond,  Volkmann,  Lotze,  Delbceuf,  Exner,  Wundt,  Zeller, 
Hall,  and  many  others,  have  contributed  to  this  branch  of 
psychology,  most  of  them  being  distinguished  in  other 
departments  of  scientific  research. 

Wundt  of  Leipsic  is  perhaps  the  most  eminent  living  rep- 
resentative of  experimental  psychology.  He  alone,  says 
Ribot,  has  treated  it  in  all  its  area.  He  alone  has  made  a 
complete  and  systematic  study  of  its  problems  from  this 
standpoint.  The  unity  of  his  work  arises  from  his  method. 
It  is  based  on  the  data  of  physiology.  It  deals  directly  with 
sensation,  which  he  distinctly  considers  the  basis  of  all  psy- 
chology, and  further  with  involuntary  movement,  language, 
and  the  natural  expression  of  feelings;  indirectly  it  deals 
with  the  will,  attention,  complex  notions  of  space  and  time, 
the  general  notion,  the  aesthetic  and  the  religious  feeling. 
When  physiology  fails,  recourse  is  had  to  anthropology, 
ethnography,  history,  or  statistics.  To  introspection,  which 
cannot  be  set  aside,  it  adds  external  observation  and  experi- 
ment, seeking  where  possible  to  apply  quantitative  measure- 
ment.    This  is  physiological  psychology  in  its  widest  sense. 

§  45.  We  shall  now  attempt  a  brief  sketch  of  the  subordi- 
nate branches  psycho-physics  and  psychometry,  in  order  that 
the  reader  may  have  a  more  definite  conception  of  the 
methods  and  results  of  physiological  psychology. 

Weber  inferred  inductively,  from  his  experiments  on 
length,  weight,  sound,  etc.,  a  general  law.  Its  formula  is : 
"Sensation  grows  with  equal  increments,  when  the  excita- 
tion grows  with  relatively  equal  increments."  By  relatively 
equal  increments  is  meant  a  constant  fraction  of  the  succes- 
sive excitations. 

From  this  starting  point  Fechner  pursued  his  studies 
whose   results   were  published  in  1860   under  the  title  Ele- 


38  INTEOBUCTION. 

ments  of  Psycho-physics.  He  says :  "  I  understand  by  psycho- 
physics  an  exact  theory  of  the  relations  of  soul  and  body, 
and  in  a  general  way  of  the  physical  world  with  the  psychi- 
cal world."  But  though  he  thus  proposes  to  give  a  general 
theory,  his  experimental  research  bears  definitely  on  a  single 
point  —  the  relation  of  excitation  and  sensation.  To  deter- 
mine this,  he  spent  years  in  experiment  and  calculation.  His 
object  is  to  measure  sensation,  passing  from  mere  quality  to 
exact  quantity.  For  sensations  obviously  have  both  quality 
and  intensity  or  quantity.  Thus  red,  blue,  green,  are  quali- 
ties marking  kinds  of  color,  but  each  varies  in  intensity.  So 
every  sensation  has  a  quantitative  value.  Now  what  better 
means  for  estimating  this  value  of  a  sensation  can  be  found 
than  the  external  movement  from  which  the  sensation  arises? 
The  excitation  is  not  only  the  most  direct,  but  perhaps  the 
only  possible  measure  of  sensation.  It  is  the  intensity  of  the 
cause  used  to  estimate  the  intensity  of  the  effect. 

To  measure  the  differences  in  intensity  of  a  given  sensa- 
tion, Fechner  applied  his  "method  of  smallest  perceptible 
differences."  1  If  an  imperceptible  difference  between  two 
weights  be  caused  to  grow,  it  will  at  last  become  just  percep- 
tible. This  minimum  difference  he  adopted  as  a  unit  of  sen- 
sation. Having  obtained  it,  by  numerous  experiments,  for 
sensations  of  pressure,  of  temperature,  and  of  sound,  he  con- 
cluded, in  order  that  each  of  these  sensations  shall  increase 
by  its  smallest  perceptible  difference,  the  excitation  must 
increase  by  one-third  of  its  intensity .^ 

In  order  to  construct  a  scale  of  magnitudes,  besides  the 
unit  of  division,  the  zero  point  must  be  ascertained.  Evi- 
dently in  these  cases  the  zero  is  where  the  incipient  sensation 
arises.     The  quantum  of  excitation  requisite  to  produce  this 

1  Fechner  supplemented  this  method  by  two  others,  "  the  method  of  true 
and  false  cases,"  and  "the  method  of  nieiiu  errors,"  all  leading  by  different 
routes  to  the  same  end. 

2  He  found  that  light  requires  an  increase  of  only  a  hundredth  part  of  its 
intensity,  in  order  to  cause  a  perceptible  difference. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL   PSYCHOLOGY.  39 

beginning  of  sensation  was  called  by  Herbait  the  value  of 
the  threshold  of  the  stimulus  or  excitation  (^Reizschivelle). 
It  was  needful,  therefore,  to  determine,  if  possible,  by  a  series 
of  observations  and  experiments,  the  exact  threshold  value 
for  each  kind  of  sensation.  Accordingly,  it  was  determined 
for  pressure  on  various  parts  of  the  body,  for  temperature, 
for  sound,  and  for  light. 

The  zero  of  each  being  fixed,  and  the  scale  constructed,  a 
comparison  of  scales  revealed  a  uniformity  which  Fechner 
formulated  into  his  now  famous  Law  of  Psycho-physics. 
One  expression  is :  The  excitation  must  grow  in  geometrical 
progression  in  order  that  the  sensation  shall  grow  in  arith- 
metical progression.  One  more  exact  is :  The  sensation 
varies  as  the  logarithm  of  the  excitation. 

§  46.  How  shall  we  estimate  the  value  of  this  law  ?  By 
the  fierceness  of  the  contention  which  has  arisen  about  it? 
Then  surel}^  it  is  of  very  great  weight.  Hering  of  Prague 
attacked  psycho-physics  at  all  points,  denying  the  conclu- 
sions of  Fechner,  especially  that  the  logarithmic  law  follows 
from  Weber's  law,  and  that  it  has  any  wide  generality.  His 
is  the  severest  assault  that  the  partisans  of  the  doctrine  have 
had  to  meet.  Delboeuf  defends  Fechner  on  some  points,  but 
will  not  allow  the  mathematical  form  which  his  work  assumes. 
In  short,  he  rejects  a  part  of  the  doctrine,  and  modifies  what 
he  does  not  reject.  To  his  denial  that  the  smallest  perceptible 
difference  is  constant, Wundt  replies  that  it  is  necessarily  so ; 
for  "•  if  the  change  of  either  of  the  two  sensations  compared 
were  greater  or  less  than  the  other,  it  would  be  therein 
greater  or  less  than  the  perceptible  minimum,  which  is  con- 
trary to  the  hypothesis."  But  while  defending  this  funda- 
mental point,  Wundt  does  not  accept  the  entire  doctrine,  he 
having  original  views  respecting  the  measurement  of  psychic 
facts.  Zeller  argues  the  impossibility  of  their  absolute  meas- 
urement, and  Wundt  replies  that  by  similar  reasoning  it 
mig-ht  be  maintained  that  no  external  natural  phenomena  are 

^-5^-^  OF  THS     ^« 


40  INTRODUCTION. 

measurable.  The  discussion  has  been  wide,  profound,  and 
seems  interminable.  "  Fechner,  "  says  Delboeuf,  "  has  against 
him  both  his  declared  adversaries  and  his  more  or  less  faith- 
ful disciples."  To  this  Fechner  replies:  "The  Tower  of 
Babel  was  not  finished  because  the  workmen  could  not  agree 
as  to  the  method  of  constructing  it;  my  psycho-physical 
monument  will  remain  because  the  workmen  cannot  agree  as 
to  the  method  of  destroying  it." 

"The  most  that  can  be  said,"  Professor  Ladd  concludes, 
"is  this:  The  law  summarizes  many  facts  reasonably  well 
within  a  certain  range  of  sensations  lying  near  the  middle  of 
the  scale  of  quantity,  and  for  certain  of  the  senses."  Ribot 
sums  up  the  results  of  criticism  thus :  "  First,  that  under  its 
mathematical  form  the  law  of  Fechner  cannot  be  accepted. 
Second,  that  observation  and  experiment  show  that,  gener- 
ally speaking,  sensation  grows  more  slowly  than  excitation. 
Thirdly,  that  though  it  be  verified  within  certain  limits 
for  visual  and  auditory  sensations,  it  is  contested  for  pressure, 
and  does  not  hold  for  the  other  sensations." 

§  47.  Experiments  have  been  made  to  determine  the  time 
occupied  by  certain  mental  acts,  and  the  results  given  under 
the  title  Psychometr}^  It  has  always  been  a  common  belief 
that  some  time,  however  short,  is  required  to  think,  to  re- 
member, and  even  to  feel.  Measurements  of  this  time  were 
made,  especially  by  Bonders,  followed  by  Exner  of  Vienna, 
Wundt,  Kries,  and  many  others,  from  18(50  to  1880,  with  fair 
chronoscopic  accuracy. 

In  1850  Helmholtz,  incited  by  the  views  of  Dubois-Rey- 
mond  on  the  electric  properties  of  nerves  (1849),  ascertained 
by  experiment  the  time  of  the  transmission  of  neural  action 
through  a  definite  nerve  length.^     Other  scientists  renewed 

1  He  excited  the  nerve  near  the  muscle  on  which  it  acts,  and  noted  the 
time  between  the  excitation  and  the  contraction.  'PhtMi  rcpeatinj^  the  experi- 
ment at  a  point  more  distant  from  tlie  nuiscle,  he  found  tlie  time  to  be 
greater.     Tlie  difference  of  distance  iu  the  difference  of  time  gives  the  rate. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  PSYCHOLOGY.  41 

the  investigation,  and  the  average  of  results  is  given  by  Her- 
mann (1874)  as  83.9  metres,  or  about  111  feet  a  second.^ 

This  being  settled,  suppose  a  patient  to  receive  a  slight 
electric  shock  in  his  finger-tip,  and  to  respond  as  promptly  as 
possible  by  a  tap  with  a  finger  of  the  other  hand.  The  total 
interval,  called  the  reaction  time,  is  found  to  be  about  0.15 
of  a  second.  Now  it  is  evident  that  this  period  consists  of 
three  parts :  first,  the  time  of  transmission  from  the  finger- 
tip to  the  brain  along  a  sensor  nerve ;  second,  that  from  the 
brain  along  a  motor  nerve  to  the  muscle  moving  the  other 
finger,  these  two  together  being  called  the  physiological 
time  ;  and  third,  an  interval  occupied  by  sense-perception 
and  volition,  called  the  psychological  or  psychic  time.  Now 
subtracting  the  physiological  time  from  the  total  or  reaction 
time,  0.15  sec,  we  have  the  psj^chic  time,  equal  to  about 
0.08  sec.^  The  experiment  has  been  performed  a  great  many 
times,  and  modified  for  the  different  senses. 

Efforts  have  been  made  to  analyze  the  psychic  interval  into 
the  time  of  sense-perception  and  the  time  of  volition.  It 
is  concluded  that  the  duration  of  volition  depends  chiefly  on 
the  more  or  less  direct  connection  between  the  sensor  and 
motor  centres.  When  this  mechanism,  and  also  the  natural 
quickness  and  habits  of  the  patient,  these  last  constituting 
his  "  personal  equation,"  are  favorable,  the  time  for  the 
volition  is  much  diminished.  It  should  be  added  that  the 
expectation  of  the  patient,  and  the  degree  of  his  attention, 
as  well  as  the  intensity  of  the  stimulus,  shorten  the  reaction 
time. 

Various  methods  have  been  employed  to  measure  the  dis- 

1  The  rate  of  this  propagation  is  comparatively  slow,  being  only  about  yV 
that  of  sound  waves  in  the  air,  which  is  1120  ft.  per  sec.  at  60°  F.  Its  nature 
is  unknown.  Clearly  it  is  not  electric.  It  may  perhaps  prove  to  be  electro- 
lytic, or  analogous  to  electrolysis,  whose  rate  has  not,  I  believe,  been  deter- 
mined, though  it  would  seem  easy  to  measure  the  retardation,  if  any,  of  the 
electric  current  through  an  electrolyzed  medium. 

-  It  would  be  better  to  call  this  psycho-physical  time,  because  during  this 
interval  the  central  physical  changes  in  the  cerebrum  also  take  place. 


42  INTRODUCTION. 

cernment  time,  i.e.  how  long  it  takes  to  distinguish  one  of 
two  impressions  of  sense.  In  one  methpd  the  patient  is 
Avarned  to  expect  one  of  two  colors  named,  but  is  not  told 
which.  He  is  to  decide  which  appears,  and  to  signal  the 
instant  the  discrimination  is  effected.  The  mean  time,  from 
many  experiments  by  this  method,  was  found  to  lie  between 
0.047  and  0.086  of  a  second.  Combining  it  with  the  results 
of  other  methods,  the  discernment  time  is  found  to  vary, 
when  the  conditions  are  of  the  simpler  sort,  from  0.1  to  0.03 
of  a  second  or  less. 

Similar  investigations  on  the  time  required  to  reproduce 
ideas  by  memory  conclude  in  general :  first,  that  the  repro- 
duction takes  longer  than  the  original  production ;  second, 
the  time  depends  largely  on  the  degree  of  attention  given  to 
the  original  production,  and  also  to  that  given  to  the  repro- 
duction. 

Finally,  the  time  requisite  to  a  logical  process,  say  the 
subordination  of  a  species  under  its  genus,  has  also  been  a 
matter  of  experiment.  It  is  found  that  the  time  is  shortest 
when  the  subject  is  concrete  and  the  predicate  a  narrow 
class,  e.g.  lions  are  cats ;  and  longest  when  the  subject  is 
abstract  and  the  predicate  a  notion  of  wide  generality,  e.g. 
holiness  is  the  sum  of  perfections.  This  is  what  might  be 
expected  from  the  comparative  difficulty  of  the  thoughts. 
The  experiments  result  in  an  average  of  about  one  second.^ 

§  48.  Thus  in  the  most  elementary  manner  we  have  tried  to 
give  a  glimpse  of  what  has  been  done  and  is  doing  in  physi- 
ological psychology.  It  is  obviously  a  bare  beginning  on  a 
new  line,  and  what  may  come  of  it  no  one  can  say.  But 
the  limitations  to  which  it  is  necessarily  subject  forbid 
the  notion  that  it  can  ever  occupy  a  chief  position  in  the 
.science  of  mind.  The  possibly  measurable  (^[uantities  in  the 
case  are  only  intensity  and  duration.  The  measurement  of 
intensity  is  rendered  very  doubtful   l)y  tlie  questionable  char- 

1  Baldwin's  Handbook  of  Psycholof/y,  p.  112. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL   PSYCHOLOGY.  43 

acter  of  the  unit  of  sensation  employed.  And  how  may  we 
hope  to  find  units  for  the  measure  of  higher  feelings  ?  Meas- 
urement of  duration  does  not  encounter  this  difficulty.  But 
is  not  the  so-called  psychic  interval  due  to  the  cerebral  move- 
ments on  which  the  mental  process  is  conditioned  ?  If  so, 
then  this  is  a  neural  and  not  a  mental  measurement.  Aside 
from  these  points,  it  is  evident  that  the  microscopic  character 
of  the  work,  the  variations  due  to  individual  differences,  and 
to  other  unavoidable  causes,  limit  reliable  experiment  to  the 
simplest  cases,  and  in  these  prevent  results  of  more  than  an 
average  and  tentative  value. 

Moreover,  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  impossi- 
bility of  even  approaching  the  higher  powers  of  mind  by 
such  experimentation,  our  esteem  for  the  method  greatly 
diminishes.  All  the  higher  processes  which  constitute  the 
rational,  emotional,  and  volitional  life  of  man  are  out  of 
its  reach.  Ribot,  an  extreme  partisan  of  the  "  new  psy- 
chology," himself  says,  "  In  all  that  concerns  these  phe- 
nomena, experimental  research  is  necessarily  useless."  Yet 
these  are  of  pre-eminent  interest,  and  constitute  the  great 
ends  of  psychological  science. 

It  may  therefore  fairly  be  asked,  when  all  the  patient, 
tedious,  minute  labor  demanded  by  this  method  in  its  narrow 
field  is  done,  and  results  apparently  so  insignificant  attained, 
are  they  worth  their  cost  ?  It  is  impossible  to  say.  Let  us 
remember  the  lesson,  so  often  taught  in  the  history  of 
scientific  investigation,  that  no  one  can  forecast  what  may 
come  of  a  search  in  the  dark,  and  that  any  fact  well  estal> 
lished  is  an  addition  to  the  sum  of  knowledge  that  may 
prove  of  inestimable  worth.  The  difficulties,  the  obstacles 
which  the  physiological  psychologist  encounters,  are  very 
great,  but  perhaps  they  may  be  conquered  at  last,  and  we 
should  encourage  the  audacity  that  attacks  them.  The  field 
is  new,  barely  broken  and  unpromising,  but  we  must  admire 
the  patient  zeal,  the  earnest  hopefulness  that  labors  for 
fruitful  results  where  but  few,  if  any,  are  possible. 


44  INTRODUCTION. 

§  49.  It  is  important  to  observe  that  this  mixed  psy- 
chology is,  in  all  of  its  aspects,  subordinate  to  and  dependent 
on  pure  psychology. 

Evidently  neither  physiology  alone,  nor  psychology  alone, 
can  ever  give  knowledge  of  the  other.  Pure  psychology  is 
strictly  a  subjective  science,  a  science  of  introspection ;  pure 
physiology  is  strictly  an  objective  science,  a  science  of 
external  observation.  It  is  true  that  mental  action  being  in 
direct  connection  and  correlation  with  neural  action,  neither 
can  be  fully  understood  without  regard  to  the  other.  For 
it  is  within  the  province  of  psychology  to  trace  the  mental 
conditions  of  knowledge  and  feeling  from  the  inner  towards 
the  outer  world ;  and  it  is  within  the  province  of  physiology 
to  trace  their  physical  conditions  from  without  towards  the 
inner  circle  of  experience.  But  neither  can  penetrate  into 
the  domain  of  the  other.^  The  most  perfect  analysis  of  the 
facts  of  consciousness  could  never  reveal  the  functions  or 
even  the  existence  of  the  outer  organs  of  sense,  nor  the 
objective  existence,  in  its  physiological  aspect,  of  the  cortex 
of  the  brain  or  sensory,  the  inner  organ  of  consciousness. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  most  profound  and  exhaustive  study 
of  neurology  can  never  explain  the  facts  of  consciousness, 
or  even  confirm  their  existence.  If  all  the  cells  and  fibres 
involved  in  each  intellectual  act  or  emotional  state  were 
numbered,  measured,  weighed,  and  their  changes  exactly 
ascertained,  if  all  the  circulating,  thermal,  chemical,  and 
electrical  motions  were  exactly  formulated,  the  utter  unlike- 
ness  between  the  objective  phenomena  and  tlie  correlative 
subjective  phenomena  would  completely  debar  the  passage 
from  one  to  the  other,  and  afford  not  the  slightest  knowledge 

1  Says  Bain:  "Mental  states  and  bodily  states  are  utterly  contrasted; 
they  cannot  be  compared,  for  they  have  nothing  in  common  except  the  most 
general  of  all  attributes  —  degree,  and  order  in  time  ;  when  engaged  with 
one  we  must  be  oblivious  of  all  that  distinguishes  the  other.  ( )ur  feelings 
and  thoughts  have  no  extension,  place,  form,  or  outline,  no  mechanical  division 
of  parts  ;  and  we  are  incapable  of  attending  to  anything  nuntal  until  we  shut 
off  the  view  of  all  that."  —  Miixf  mid  Ihidij.  \\  V-V^. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    PSYCHOLOGY.  46 

of  the  intellectual  act  or  emotional  state. ^  Between  the 
objective  and  the  subjective  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed. 
Whatever  relations  are  discernible,  it  is  impossible  that  the 
one  class  of  facts  should  ever  replace  the  other,  or  that  either 
should  ever  be  interpreted  in  terms  of  the  other. 

In  consequence,  however,  of  the  essential  connection  of 
mind  and  body,  the  phenomena  of  each  stand  to  those  of  the 
other  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect.^  Upon  this  the 
mixed  or  physiological  psychology  relies,  and  seeks  in  its 
narrow  field  a  more  exact  expression  and  measurement  of 
the  facts.  Nervous  process  in  its  single  aspect  belongs  to 
physiology;  nervous  process  in  this  double  aspect  belongs 
to  the  mixed  psychology.  It  studies  psychical  variations 
indirectly  by  the  aid  of  physical  variations  that  can  be  pro- 
duced directly.  It  has  for  its  object  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness that  accompany  nervous  phenomena. 

This  combination  of  two  distinct  sciences  implies  a  knowl- 
edge of  each.  The  physiology  of  the  nervous  system  must 
be  known  to  some  extent  before  nervous  action  can  be  made 
the  basis  of  higher  experimentation.  The  better  it  is  known, 
the  more  hopeful  the  procedure.  Likewise,  the  combination, 
instead  of  excluding  the  results  of  the  pure  psychology,  pre- 
supposes them.     One   must  know  what  the  phenomena  of 

1  Professor  Tyndall  says ;  "Let  the  consciousness  of  love  be  associated 
with  a  right-handed  spiral  motion  of  the  molecules  of  the  brain,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  hate  with  a  left-handed  spiral  motion  ;  we  should  then  know 
when  we  love  that  the  motion  is  in  one  direction,  and  when  we  hate  that 
the  motion  is  in  the  other,  but  the  v^luj  would  still  remain  unanswered." 
Dr.  McCosh  adds :  "  Not  only  so,  but  without  self-consciousness  we  could 
never  know  that  there  was  love,  or  that  there  was  hate,  or  that  they  had  any 
connection  with  the  motions  of  the  brain." 

2  It  was  a  sore  problem  with  the  earlier  philosophers  as  to  how  mind  and 
matter  could  interact.  Descartes  solved  it  by  his  theory  of  occasional  causes. 
Leibnitz  solved  it  by  his  theory  of  pre-established  harmony.  Both  had 
recourse  to  the  Deus  ex  machina  of  the  ancients.  For  these  historic  curiosi- 
ties, see  Hamilton,  Meta.,  p.  208  sq.,  or  any  History  of  Philosophy,  e.g. 
Ueberweg's,  §  114  and  §  117.  We  accept  the  interaction  as  an  ultimate, 
inexplicable  fact. 


46  INTRODUCTION. 

consciousness  are,  must  analyze  and  classify  them,  must  know 
their  relations  and  laws,  before  any  hopeful  attempt  can  be 
made  to  produce  and  measure  them.  One  must  know  him- 
self as  thoroughly  as  possible  by  an  internal  study  of  him- 
self, together  with  a  comparison  of  this  observation  with  the 
observation  of  others  and  by  others,  before  he  can  reasonably 
enter  on  an  investigation  of  the  quantities  of  the  ascertained 
facts.  Professor  Ladd  very  truly  says:  "The  phenomena 
of  consciousness  as  primary  facts  can  be  ascertained  in  no 
other  way  than  in  and  by  consciousness  itself.  AVhatever 
fault  may  be  found  with  the  so-called  introspective  method 
in  psychology,  on  account  of  its  alleged  inaccuracy,  lack  of 
scientific  and  progressive  quality,  etc.,  from  the  very  nature 
of  the  case,  no  other  way  of  ascertaining  what  the  phenomena 
of  consciousness  in  themselves  are  can  ever  take  the  place  of 
the  direct  examination  of  consciousness.  And  there  is  no 
way  of  directly  examining  consciousness  but  the  way  of 
beinof  conscious  of  one's  self." 

Let  us  then  enter  upon  the  study  of  the  pure  psychology, 
a  very  old  science,  since  it  has  Aristotle  for  its  founder, 
fully  persuaded  that  during  the  twenty  centuries  of  its  con- 
tinuous life,  matter  worthy  of  preservation  has  accumulated, 
and  that  it  can  never  be  superseded  so  long  as  there  are  sub- 
jective facts  to  be  investigated,  so  long  as  consciousness  is 
the  ultimate  ground  of  all  science. 


ELEMENTS   OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 


-o-o>»<0<>- 


FART  FIRST. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PRELIMINARY   DEFINITIONS. 

§  50.  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the  phenomena  of  mincl.^ 
The  several  terms  of  this  definition  call  for  some  explication. 

A  science  is  a  logical  system  of  truths.  Its  matter  is  exhi- 
bited in  a  fixed  terminology  of  precise  definition,  and  in  a 
thoroughly  systematized  classification.  It  is  a  complement  of 
knowledge,  a  knowledge  of  the  princif)les  and  causes  of  the 
things  and  events  within  its  bounds,'  and  of  their  essential 
relations,  excluding  accidental  matter.^ 

Sciences  are  speculative   and  empirical.^      Speculative   or 

1  The  word  psychology  is  from  \pvxvi  soul,  and  X670S,  a  reasoning  or  dis- 
course. Aristotle  has  a  treatise  -n-epl  i^vxv^,  the  De  Anima,  but  the  term 
psychology  is  quite  modern,  not  being  found  earlier  than  1575.  Goclenius 
first  adopted  it  as  a  literary  title  in  1504.  Coleridge  apologizes  for  using 
the  insolens  verbum,  but  it  is  now  familiar,  and  the  approved  title  in  all 
European  languages  of  the  subject  before  us. 

2  Science,  Lat.  scicntia,  from  scire,  to  know ;  Grk.  eTTLffTrjur],  for  it  leads 
to  some  stop  or  boundary  of  things  (iirl  (TrdcTiv).  This  etymology  is  given 
by  Plato  in  the  Crutyliis,  p.  434  a,  ed.  Steph.  But  cf.  p.  412  a,  ^  eiroixivq  rots 
irpd'yfjLaffi.v. 

3  Speculative,    Lat.   speculari,    to  spy   out  or  look  into,   from   specere. 


48  CONSCIOifSJ^ESS. 

a  priori  science  is  a  metliod  of  pure  thought,  deducing  its 
system  from  intuitive,  necessary  principles  \iy  the  synthesis 
of  these  principles  alone ;  as  philosophy,  logic,  mathematics. 
Empirical  or  a  posteriori  science  arises  from  the  facts  of  expe- 
rience and  observation,  and  through  inductive  inference  devel- 
ops its  system  by  the  analysis  and  synthesis  of  these  facts ;  as 
psychology,  physiology,  chemistry .^  Though  necessarily  in- 
volving intuitive  principles,  empirical  science  is  a  knowledge 
of  facts  as  distinguished  from  j)rinciples,2  and  may  be  delined 
as  a  science  of  facts  generalized  and  inductively  formulated 
in  laws  from  which  deductions  are  made. 

Empirical,  Grk.  ifnreipia,  experience.  Empirical  or  historical  kuowledge, 
the  knowledge  of  experience,  is  the  knowledge  that  a  thing  is,  yvua-is  &tl  ea-ri. 
Speculative  or  philosophical  knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  ratiocination,  is  the 
knowledge  why  or  how  a  thing  is,  ywQais  5i6ti  '4<7ti.  ""Ori  scienticc  fiinda' 
laentum  est,  5i6ti,  fastigium.''^  —  Trexdelenberg,  Elem.  Log.  Arist.  See 
Sir  William  Hamilton's  detailed  account  of  the  term  empirical  in  3Ieta.,  Lee.  3. 

1  The  phrases  a  priori  and  a  posteriori  were  used  by  the  schoolmen  in  a 
sense  derived  from  Aristotle,  the  former  to  denote  a  reasoning  from  cause  to 
effect,  the  latter  a  reasoning  from  effect  to  cause.  More  commonly  now,  in 
logic,  they  are  used  to  distinguish  between  the  deduction  of  a  special  case 
from  first  principles,  and  the  induction  of  a  general  truth  from  observed 
facts.  In  philosopliy  and  psychology  knowledge  a  priori,  according  to  Kant, 
is  that  which  is  independent  of  all  experience,  and  logically  prior  to  it ; 
knowledge  a  posteriori  is  that  acquired  by  observation  of  facts,  and  therefore 
dependent  on,  and  logically  jxisterior  to,  experience.  The  one  is  knowledge 
of  pure,  the  other  of  empirical,  truth.  —  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  Int.,  §  1. 
Cf.  Esser,  Logik,  §§  4  and  12  ;  Fries,  Logik,  §  124.  Also  Hamilton,  Meta., 
p.  285,  and  Logic,  p.  385  (Am.  eds.),  and  his  note  in  BeixFs  Works,  p.  762. 
Also  Thompson,  Outline  of  the  Laics  of  Thottght,  §§  32,  33  ;  and  Trendelen- 
burg, Kj-ccrpta,  p.  81. 

2  Principles  (principia,  oi  dpxal,  beginnings,  elements)  are  those  primary 
truths  which  underlie  all  knowledge.  They  may  either  be  stated  as  original 
elements,  in  which  case  they  are  constitutive,  or  be  formulated  as  original 
laws,  in  which  case  they  are  regulative.  When  taken  in  a  more  general 
sense,  the  word  jmnciple  denotes  that  on  which  some  other  truth  depends. 
In  this  use  we  may  distinguish  between  a  primary  or  first  principle  and  a 
secondary  principle  ;  though  in  strictness  the  one  phrase  is  tautological,  the 
other  self-contradictory.  Aristotle  notices  several  meanings  of  apxaii,  and 
says  :  "  What  is  common  to  all  principles  is  tliat  they  are  the  primary  source 
from  which  anything  exists,  is  imxlnced,  or  is  known."  —  Metn  ,  iv.  1,  3.  Cf. 
Descartes,  Priucijii((,  /'jiisf.  An/. 


PRELIMINABr  DEFINITIONS.  49 

A  phenomenon  is  that  which  appears,  either  to  the  external 
or  to  the  internal  sense. ^  It  is  anything  manifest  to  mere 
observation,  as  distinguished  from  the  elements  into  which  it 
is  resolved,  and  the  forces  and  laws  by  which  it  is  explained. 
The  moon  and  its  changes,  if  observed,  are  physical  phenom- 
ena, antecedent  to  any  explanation.  The  facts  of  experience, 
or  more  generally  of  consciousness,  are  psychical  phenomena. 

Since  the  phenomena  of  mind  are  facts  of  experience,  psy- 
chology is  an  empirical  science.  It  becomes  a  science  by  infer- 
ring from  these  facts  obtained  by  introspection  universal 
propositions  which  are  formulated  as  laws  of  mind,  and  is 
therefore  an  inductive,  a  posteriori  science.  And  since  these 
facts  are  modes  of  consciousness,  it  may  very  well  be  defined 
as  the  science  of  the  facts  of  consciousness.  It  is  the  natural 
history  of  mind,  the  science  of  human  nature. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  on  analyzing  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness we  shall  find  certain  elements  that  are  not  empirical,  not 
given  by,  but  along  with,  experience.  A  consideration  of 
these  elements  will  carry  us  beyond  the  bounds  of  empirical 
science  into  philosophy.  In  this,  and  perhaps  other  respects, 
psychology  leads  so  directly  into  metaphysics  that  it  is  not 
desirable,  and  indeed  hardly  possible,  to  observe  strictly  the 
bounds  of  these  sciences.  Whenever,  then,  it  seems  needful  to 
elucidate  the  matter  in  hand,  to  confirm  the  doctrine,  or  to  aug- 
ment our  information,  we  shall  freely  transgress  the  limits  of 
empirical  psychology,  and  touch  upon  metaphysical  inquiries.^ 

1  Phenomenon,  (paivofxaL,  to  appear.  In  the  Kantian  philosophy,  phenome- 
non is  opposed  to  noumenon  or  thing  in  itself  (das  Ding  in  sich) ;  that  is,  the 
real  taken  absolutely.  Phenomena  are  things  in  consciousness  ;  noumena 
are  things  out  of  consciousness.  —  C.  P.  i?.,  p.  178.  A  phenomenon,  then,  is 
the  thing  as  presented  to  external  or  internal  sense,  as  it  stands  related  to 
mind.  Perhaps  more  fundamentally  and  strictly  a  phenomenon  is  merely 
an  observed  change  in  consciousness.  Psychology  is  concerned  only  with 
mental  phenomena,  with  what  appears  in  consciousness,  or  with  the  changes 
in  modes  of  consciousness.  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  nature  of  interior 
realities  apart  from  consciousness,  this  being  the  province  of  metaphysics. 

2  To  empirical  psychology  is  opposed  rational  psychologj\  The  distinction 
was  first  made  by  Wolf  in  his  works  entitled  Psyclwlogia  Empirica,  and 


50  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The  mind  is  commonly  thought  of  as  a  substance.^  Matter 
is  extended  substance.  Mind  is  conscious  substance.  Mat- 
ter and  mind  arc  known  to  us  only  under  two  totally  distinct 
series  of  phenomena  or  qualities.  Matter  manifests  extension, 
solidity,  divisibility,  figure,  motion,  color,  heat,  etc.  Mind 
manifests  knowing,  feeling,  desiring,  and  willing.  Now  no 
quality  can  be  conceived  as  existing  apart,  by  itself,  in  abso- 
lute independence,  per  se.  We  necessarily  think  it  the  quality 
of  some  thing,  and  the  thing  in  which  the  quality  inheres, 
that  which  manifests  the  phenomenon,  we  call  substance.^ 

Psychologia  Rationnlis,  1734.  The  latter  is  a  branch  of  ontology,  seeking 
to  evolve  a  priori  from  the  conception  of  spiritual  being  those  principles 
that  govern  its  manifestations.  The  method  was  in  high  repute  until  Kant 
assailed  it,  so  successfully  that  it  is  now  hardly  recognized.  Hence  the 
simple  title  Psychology  is  usually  given  to  the  empirical  science. 

1  The  word  mind  is  Anglo-Saxon,  allied  to  Lat.  mois  and  Grk.  fi^vos,  all 
probably  from  a  common  root  preserved  in  the  Sanscrit  mena,  to  know. 
Soul  is  now  synonymous  with  mind.  Originally  it  signified  only  the  principle 
of  organic  life  (anima,  i^vx^^),  which  meaning  may  be  traced  in  the  N.  T. 
trichotomy  of  body,  soul,  and  spirit  (crw/xa,  ^/vx-ri,  Trvevf/.a).  —  See  1  ThesS.  5: 
23.  Cf.  Plato,  in  the  Timmts,  34  d.  sq.,  and  36  e.  sq.,  ed.  Steph. ;  also  Aris- 
totle, Pol.  1.  In  the  0.  T.  soul  (Heb.  nephesh)  generally  means  life.  Spirit  is 
generic,  meaning  either  an  immaterial  part  that  is  or  has  been  connected 
with  body,  or  else  an  immaterial  being  never  so  connected.  The  words  soul 
and  spirit  have  such  strong  theological  associations  that  they  are  little  used 
by  psychologists. 

It  is  remarkable  that  many  words  synonymous  with  mind  signify,  prima- 
rily, air  in  motion.  E.g.  ypvx"^,  dvfx6s,  irvevtxa,  spiritns,  each  meaning  wind  or 
breath  (see  John  3:8);  animns,  from  dve/xos,  wind  ;  soul,  Ger.  Seele,  from 
a  Gothic  root  meaning  to  storm  ;  ghost,  Ger.  Gei.'<t,  ghastly,  and  gas  are 
from  a  root  meaning  air ;  and  the  Ileb.  nephesh,  soul,  and  ruach,  spirit,  are 
from  a  root  which  means  to  breathe.  Cf.  Gen.  2:7:  "breathed  into  his 
nostrils  the  breath  of  life,  and  man  became  a  living  soul." 

2  Substance  (sub  and  sto,  stans,  that  standing  under)  has  in  scholastic 
philosophy  two  distinguishable  meanings :  — 

1st.  Ens  per  se  snhsistens,  ovala.  It  is  conceived  as  apart  from  all  qualities, 
as  merely  existing.  Spinoza  says:  '■'Per  suhstnntiiim  iiitclligo  id  quod  in 
se  est,  et  per  se  concipitur ;  hoc  est  id  cujns  conceptus  nan  indiget  conceptii, 
alterius  rei  a  quo  formari  dchent.''''  —  Ethics,  Def.  3. 

2d.  Id  quod  suhstnt  accidentibus,  vivharacTLS,  inroKelixtvov,  i.e.  the  substratum 
in  which  qualities  inhere,  and  which  is  their  bond  of  union.  Says  Locke : 
"Tlie  idea  which  we  have  to  which  we  give  the  name  substance  is  nothing 


PEELIMINABY  DEFINITIONS.  51 

Matter  is  the  substance  in  which  material  or  physical  qvialities 
inhere.  Mind  is  the  substance  in  which  mental  qualities 
inhere.^  Since  there  is  no  common  quality,  the  presence  of 
any  one  is  distinctive.  Some  qualities,  however,  are  essential, 
others  accidental.  Extension,  being  an  ever-present  quality 
of  matter,  is  considered  essential,  and  taken  as  its  defining 
quality.  Consciousness,  being  characteristic  of  all  mental 
phenomena,  is  considered  essential,  and  taken  as  the  defining 
quality  of  mind.^ 

Mind,  then,  is  conscious  substance,  or  better,  is  the  con- 
scious subject.  But  this  logical  definition  a  priori  is  of  little 
advantage,  the  notion  being  so  nearly  ultimate.  It  is  more 
satisfactory,  since  we  know  mind  only  in  its  phenomena,  its 
conscious  acts  and  affections,  to  explain  the  meaning  of  the 
word  and  the  nature  of  the  thing  by  stating  them  summarily, 
thus :  Mind  is  that  which  knows  and  feels,  desires  and  wills. 
This  is  sometimes  called  the  definition  a  posteriori,  but  is 
rather  a  logical  division  of  the  mental  powers.^ 

but  the  supposed  but  unknown  support  of  those  qualities  we  find  existing, 
which  we  imagine  cannot  exist  sine  re  siihstante,  without  something  to  sup- 
port them.     We  call  that  support  substantia.'''' 

"In  the  former  meaning,"-  says  Hamilton,  "substance  is  considered  in 
contrast  to  and  independent  of  its  attributes;  in  the  latter,  as  conjoined  with 
these,  and  affording  them  the  condition  of  existence."  — Meta.,  p.  105. 

Herbert  Spencer  defines  the  substance  of  mind  as  "  that  which  undergoes 
a  modification  producing  a  state  of  mind."  He  adds:  "Consequently,  if 
every  state  of  mind  is  some  modification  of  this  substance  of  mind,  there  can 
be  no  state  of  mind  in  which  the  unmodified  substance  of  mind  is  present." 
Hence  unmodified  substance  of  mind  is  unknowable.  —  Principles  of  Psy- 
chology, §  59. 

1  Whether  these  be  two  distinct  substances  or  only  one,  a  common, 
substance  is  a  question  which  just  now  is  disregarded.  An  examination  of 
it  will  be  found  in  a  subsequent  chapter  on  Mind  and  Matter. 

2  Descartes  said :  "  Thought  is  the  essence  of  spirit,  extension  the  essence 
of  matter.  The  one  is  known  by  consciousness,  the  other  by  perception." 
This  is,  at  least,  badly  stated.  Bather,  this:  "Consciousness  is  to  mind 
what  extension  is  to  matter.  Both  are  phenomena,  but  both  are  essential 
qualities  ;  for  we  can  neither  conceive  mind  without  consciousness,  nor  body 
without  extension."  —  Hamilton,  Meta.,  p.  109. 

3  Aristotle,  in  De  Anima,  ii.  1,  gives  an  a  priori  definition  of  the  soul, 


52  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

It  will  be  better,  however,  to  exclude  all  consideration 
of  substance,  and  use  the  word  mind  to  stand  merely  for  a 
complement  of  activities.  Its  substantial  essence  is  a  meta- 
physical theme  that  does  not  concern  us  at  present,  and  would 
hinder  rather  than  promote  our  strictly  psychological  inquiries.^ 

§  51.  The  most  thoroughgoing  distinction  in  psychology  is 
the  antithesis  between  the  ego  and  the  non-ego,  between  self 
and  not-self.  The  ego  is  identical  with- my  mind;  the  non- 
ego  is  any  and  everything  else.  All  the  material  universe,  all 
human  beings,  except  myself,  are  non-ego.  My  body  is  mine, 
but  is  not  I  myself.  It  may  be  mutilated ;  I  am  still  entire. 
Even  the  innermost  organ  of  my  brain  is  non-ego.  The  ego 
is  I  myself  who  stand  in  conscious  opposition  to  the  non-ego. 
I  can  conceive  myself  to  exist  apart  from  every  organ,  but  I 
cannot  conceive  myself  to  exist  apart  from  consciousness. 
This  or  that  mode  may  not  be  necessary,  but  in  some  mode  it 
is  necessary  that  I  be  conscious  in  order  to  be.  I,  the  ego, 
therefore  am  essentially  a  conscious  being,  and  my  true  char- 
acter is  that  of  an  intelligence  served  by  organs.^ 

^ux'7)  which  has  been  much  discussed.  It  is :  "  The  soul  is  the  first  entel- 
echy  of  a  physical,  potentially  living  and  organic  body."  This  is  cited  by 
Leibnitz  as  an  illustrious  example  of  obscurity.  In  ii.  2,  Aristotle  gives  his 
a  posteriori  definition  of  tpvxv:  "  The  soul  is  the  principle  by  which  we  live 
and  move,  perceive  (or  feel,  aiadavoixai)  and  understand." 

1  Wundt  says  there  are  only  two  ways  of  conceiving  the  soul,  either  as  a 
substance  or  as  an  act.  To  the  first  conception  belong  all  theories  according 
to  which  psychic  facts  are  manifestations  of  a  liypothetical  substratum,  a 
substance  material  or  immaterial.  According  to  the  latter  the  psychic  is 
pure  actuality,  immediately  given  in  the  manifestations  of  the  mental  life. 
Hume,  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Hegel  are  representatives  of  the  theory  of  actuality. 
Psychology  does  not,  like  the  physical  sciences,  attach  itself  to  a  metaphysi- 
cal conception  outside  the  fact  of  internal  perception,  or  allow  itself  to  be 
embarrassed  by  an  hypothesis  of  substance,  not  needed  in  the  explanation. 
Thus  we  have,  despite  its  etymology,  "  psycliology  without  a  soul." 

^  Throughout  this  treatise,  the  pronouns  I,  mine,  me,  are  used  generically, 
meaning  the  ego  as  it  is  in  every  person,  single  in  each,  but  common  in 
character.  They  should  be  taken  to  mean  the  reader,  rather  than  the 
writer. 


PEELIMINABY  DEFINITION !S.  53 

There  is  a  further  distinction  between  the  ego  and  its  con- 
scious modes.  I  distinguish  myself  from  my  thoughts.  They 
are  manifold  and  various ;  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  one  and  the 
same.  Their  change  is  sometimes  determined  by  me,  some- 
times by  that  different  from  me,  and  because  of  this  changing 
I  can  distinguish  myself  from  my  thoughts.  But  I  am  a 
permanent  being,  an  enduring  subject,  of  whose  existence 
these  thoughts  are  only  conscious  modes  or  phenomena.^ 

§  52.  Another  thoroughgoing  antithesis,  very  similar  to 
but  not  strictly  identical  with  the  preceding,  is  that  between 
subject  and  object.  The  subject  (the  mind,  the  ego)  is  that 
in  which  the  phenomena  of  consciousness  inhere.^  The  sub- 
jective is  that  which  belongs  to  or  proceeds  from  or  directly 
relates  to  the  subject.  The  object  is  that  about  which  the 
subject  is  conversant.  The  objective  is  that  which  belongs 
to  or  proceeds  from  or  directly  relates  to  an  object.^ 

The  subject  knows  ;  the  object  is  known.  They  are  essen- 
tial correlatives ;  no  subject,  no  object ;  no  object,  no  subject. 
All  consciousness  involves  a  subject  and  an  object,  the  one 
determined,  the  other  determining.  The  subject  is  conscious 
only  in  being  affected  by  an  object ;  an  object  is  known  only 
as  affecting  the  subject.     The  whole  science  of  mind  is  little 

1  ' '  Consciousness  comes  from  the  firmly  founded  relation  of  the  mental 
modifications,  a  founding  which  implies  a  something  relatively  in  repose, 
which  transcends  in  force  the  simple  modifications.  This  thing  of  relative 
repose  is  the  ego."  —  Kirchmann. 

' '  "Was  ist  doch  tiberhaupt  das  Ich  ?  Warum  sagen  wir  immer  so  leicht : 
mein  Geist,  meine  Seele,  als  wenn  noch  ein  andrer  Regent  hoher  iiber  diesen 
Regierenden  in  uns  stjinde."  — Tieck. 

2  The  word  subject  is  pretty  much  the  same  as  substance,  but  psychology 
has  usurped  it  to  itself,  so  that  currently  in  philosophical  writings  the  con- 
scious subject  and  the  subject  (unqualified)  mean  the  same  thing  and  are 
equivalents  of  mind. 

3  This  distinction  between  subject,  id  in  quo,  and  object,  id  circa  quod, 
corresponds  pretty  nearly  with  Aristotle's  distinction  between  to.  vfxiv,  things 
in  us,  and  to,  (pijaeL,  things  in  nature.  See  Hamilton  in  Reid,  note  B,  §  1,  6, 
footnote  (p.  806),  for  a  discussion  of  the  liistory  and  nature  of  the  distinction. 


54  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

else  tlian  an  exposition  of  these  opposites  in  tlieir  mutual 
relations.^ 

When  the  object  is  immediate  and  a  present  non-ego,  that  is, 
something  external  to  the  mind  and  yet  within  the  sphere  of 
consciousness,  it  is  called  simply  the  object,  in  a  specific  sense. 
But  while  the  subject  is  always  the  ego,  the  immediate  object 
is  not  always  a  non-ego.  Very  often  a  present  mental  state 
itself  is  objectified,  or  becomes  an  object  of  cognition.  For 
example,  a  mental  image,  as  of  the  moon,  being  a  mode  of  the 
mind  itself,  is  in  that  respect  subjective ;  as  a  thing  known, 
it  is  objective,  an  object  of  knowledge.  Although  really  iden- 
tical with  the  ego,  the  mind  distinguishes  it  as  a  mode  from 
self.  It  projects,  as  it  were,  this  subjective  phenomenon  from 
itself,  objectifies  it,  and  views  it  as  a  non-ego.  Hence  it  is 
distinguished  as  a  subjective  object,  or  subject-object. 

The  mental  image,  the  subject-object,  immediately  repre- 
sents some  remote  object,  as  the  moon  itself.  It  is  remote  in 
the  sense  of  being  now  beyond  the  sphere  of  consciousness, 
or  not  here  and  now  present  and  consciously  known.  This 
remote  object  is  something  either  real,  as  the  moon,  or  at  least 
logically  possible,  as  a  centaur.  It  is  called  by  way  of  dis- 
tinction, an  objective  object,  or  object-object. 

In  cognitive  states  the  subjective  is  that  pertaining  to  the 
mind  as  observant  or  reflective ;  the  objective  is  that  pertain- 
ing to  the  thing  on  which  the  mind's  attention  is  fixed.  But 
by  its  definition,  the  objective  means  not  only  what  belongs  to 
or  proceeds  from  an  object,  but  also  what  directly  relates  to  it. 

1  Some  illustrative  examples  may  be  heli)ful.  The  extended  landscape 
before  nie  is  an  object;  my  enjoyment  of  it  is  subjective.  1  liear  a  sweet- 
toned  bell ;  the  bell  and  its  tones  are  objects  or  objective;  the  hearing  and 
the  sweetness  are  subjective.  To  be  convinced  is  subjective  ;  to  convict  is 
objective.  Certainty,  as  a  state  of  mind,  is  subjective  ;  as  a  character  of 
proof,  it  is  objective.  Benevolence  is  subjective  ;  beneficence  is  objective. 
That  suicide  is  a  crime  is  an  objective  fact ;  that  Cato  tliinks  otherwise  is  a 
subjective  fact.  A  code  of  morality  that  allows  a  man  to  fix  his  own  standard 
of  ri^ht  and  wronj,'  is  subjective  ;  but  tlie  moral  law  is  said  to  have  objective 
authurity,  an  authority  belonging  to  itself,  apart  from  the  opinions  of  men. 


PRELIMINABY  DEFINITIONS.  55 

Hence  those  modes  of  mind  which  are  immediately  conversant 
with  an  object,  as  perception,  are  called  objective  modes. 

§  53.  Power  is  the  possibility  of  change.  Possible  mental 
changes,  known  from  experience,  are  classified  as  powers  of 
mind.  Primarily  we  have  two  classes,  the  active  powers  or 
faculties,  and  the  passive  powers  or  capacities.  A  faculty 
is  a  power  to  change,  a  capacity  is  a  power  to  be  changed ; 
the  one  is  a  power  to  impart,  the  other  to  receive.  This  dis- 
tinction is  of  some  value  in  marking  relations,  but  it  is  not 
essential,  any  power  being  active  or  passive  according  to  the 
relation  in  which  it  is  viewed.  An  uncaused  act  of  will  is 
an  exception,  being  absolutely  active. 

Potential  or  virtual  existence  is  that  which  at  some  future 
time  cau  be  ;  actual  existence  is  that  which  now  is.  Patti  is 
a  singer  when  silent,  not  in  actu,  but  in  posse,  or  virtually ; 
she  can  sing.  Power,  faculty,  capacity,  disposition,  habit,  are 
expressions  for  potential  or  possible  mental  modes.  Act, 
operation,  energy,  exercise,  denote  actual  modes.  Affection 
and  passion  denote  a  present  suffering.^ 

It  is  a  very  simple  inference  from  observing  what  the  mind 
does,  to  conclude  that  it  has  a  power  or  faculty  of  doing  it. 
But  of  the  power  when  not  in  exercise,  as  of  the  substantial 
mind  itself,  we  are  utterly  unconscious.  We  are  conscious 
only  of  mental  action  and  of  reaction  in  suffering.  It  would 
be  better,  therefore,  if  our  psychological  nomenclature  were 
so  constructed  as  to  confine  our  attention  to  the  actual  phe- 
nomena of  which  we  are  conscious,  and  we  should  endeavor 
to  represent  the  facts  as  actual  rather  than  potential. 

1  FacuUas  is  the  same  asfacUitas,  from  facilis,  facere,  and  means  ability 
todo.  "  Facilitates  sunt,  aut  quihus  facilins  fit,  aut  sine  qidhus aliquid  coiifici 
non potest.'' —  Cicero,  Invent.,  ii.  40.  Faculties  and  capacities  are  natural 
powers;  disposition  is  a  natural  tendency.  "Habit,  ?|is,  is  discriminated 
from  disposition,  Siddea-is,  in  this,  that  the  latter  is  easily  movable,  the 
former  of  longer  duration  and  more  difficult  to  be  moved."  —  Aristotle, 
Catagorice,  viii.  Habit  is  the  effect  of  repetition  or  custom.  "For  use 
almost  can  change  the  stamp  of  nature."  —Hamlet.  Its  law  may  be  stated 
thus :  Our  powers  acquire  strength,  facility,  and  a  permanent  tendency  by 
repetition  of  the  same  exercise. 


56  CONSCIOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

GENERALITY   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

§  54.  The  primary  and  fundamental  truth  of  psychology, 
that  indeed  from  which  all  other  truths  arise,  is  the  simple 
judgment,  I  am  conscious.  This  proposition  is  incapable  of 
proof,  and  needs  none,  for  it  is  evidently  true  on  the  slightest 
self-inspection.  It  is  requisite,  however,  to  know  what  is 
meant  by  the  concrete  term  conscious,  and  its  abstract  form 
consciousness.^ 

The  complete  generality  of  consciousness  is  the  most  impor- 
tant point  to  be  noted.  Having  examined  the  various  mental 
modes  and  abstracted  their  common  qualit}^  we  call  that  con- 
sciousness. Every  mental  state,  then,  is  a  conscious  state,  or 
consciousness  is  the  name  of  a  quality  characteristic  of  every 
mental  state.  As  matter  in  all  of  its  modes  is  extended,  so 
mind  in  all  of  its  modes  is  conscious.^ 

Actual  consciousness  is  always  concrete  in  some  particular 

1  Consciousness,  conscientia,  joint  knowledge,  from  con,  together,  and 
scire,  to  know.  Etymologically  the  word  is  the  same  with  conscience ;  but 
while  the  latter  is  narrowed  in  usage  to  an  ethical  sense,  the  former  is  greatly- 
widened  in  meaning,  and  must  not  be  bound  by  its  etymology.  The  ancient 
Greeks  had  no  term  for  consciousness.  The  Greek  Platonists  and  Aristote- 
lians of  the  Christian  era  adoi)ted  the  term  crvvai(r6r}ffLs,  which  properly  denotes 
the  self-recognition  of  sense  and  feeling,  and  extended  it  to  mean  conscious- 
ness in  general.  TertulHan  (a.d.  100-220)  was  the  tir.st  to  use  conscientid  in 
its  psychological  sense,  but  prior  to  Descartes  it  only  occasionally  occurs. 

-  Consciousness  is  mental  life.  "  It  is,"  says  Cousin,  "the  interior  light 
which  illuminates  everything  that  takes  place  in  the  soul ;  it  is  the  accompani- 
ment of  all  our  faculties,  and  is,  so  to  speak,  their  echo."  —  /list,  of  Mod. 
Phil.,  t.  i,  p.  247.  It  would  be  more  accurate  to  say  that  whatever  takes  place 
in  the  soul  is  self-luminous  ;  that  consciousness  does  not  attend,  but  per- 
meates and  informs  all  our  faculties,  and  is,  not  their  echo,  but  their  voice. 


GENERALITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  57 

state  of  mind,  as  perceiving,  or  remembering,  or  thinking,  or 
feeling.  Each  of  these  is  a  mode  of  consciousness,  and  there 
is  no  unmodified  consciousness.  Its  abstract,  comprehensive, 
generic  relation  is  merely  logical. 

Because  of  its  complete  generality,  consciousness  cannot  be 
logically  defined.  There  is  no  higher  genus  to  which  it  can 
be  referred.  It  is  the  summum  genus  of  the  mental  series. 
We  must  be  content,  therefore,  to  have  it  merely  indicated ; 
e.g.  when  one  is  falling  asleep,  he  is  losing  consciousness,  etc. 

§  55.  Since  we  cannot  refer  consciousness  to  any  higher 
notion,  let  us  look  down  its  logical  series,  consider  its  content, 
and  thus  render  the  notion  distinct.  The  modes  of  conscious- 
ness are  knowing  and  feeling,  desiring  and  willing. 

When  I  am  knowing  a  thing  I  know  that  I  am  knowing  it, 
or  more  properly,  I  am  conscious  of  knowing  it,  or  am  con- 
sciously knowing  it.  But  these  phrases  convey  the  impres- 
sion that  the  knowing  a  thing,  and  the  consciousness  of 
knowing  it,  are  distinguishable  facts,  which  is  not  true.  Also 
they  waste  words ;  for  knowledge  is  merely  and  in  itself  a  mode 
of  consciousness,  and  in  saying  simply  I  know,  I  say  that  I  am 
conscious.  So  also  of  feeling.  Desiring  and  willing  also  are 
severally  and  essentially  conscious  activities.^ 

I  may,  however,  accurately  say  I  know  that  I  feel,  or  that 
I  desire,  or  will.  But  when  this  is  strictly  correct,  the  feel- 
ing, the  desiring,  or  the  willing  has  been  objectified,  has 
become  a  subject-object  of  cognition.  This  is  not  feeling,  or 
desiring,  or  willing,  but  knowing.  It  is  self-perception,  a 
mode  of  cognition.  The  state  is  commonly  and  faii'ly  ex- 
pressed thus :  I  am  conscious  of  feeling,  etc.  Hence  many 
have  been  led  to  regard  consciousness  in  general  as  a  kind  or 
mode  of  knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  self,  as  distinguished 
from  the  knowledge  of  an  external  object.     Others,  enlarg- 

1  Said  the  schoolmen:  '■'-Non  sentimns,  nisi  sentiamus  nos  sentire ;  non 
intelliiiiruHs,  nisi  intplligamus  nos  intelligere.''^     But  Aristotle  had  said:  ovk 


58  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

ing  the  view,  hold  consciousness  to  be  the  immediate  knowl- 
edo-e  of  any  object.  But  both  these  subordinate  consciousness 
to  knowledge,  define  it,  and  so  deny  to  it  the  complete  gener- 
ality and  supremacy  that  belongs  to  its  nature.^ 

Does  the  reality  justify  and  require  the  more  extended 
meaning  of  the  term  consciousness  ?  Is  each  of  the  several 
activities  in  itself  a  conscious  activity  ?  Desires  and  volitions 
are  not  commonly  considered  as  in  themselves  conscious 
activities,  but  that  they  are  so  is  evident ;  for,  when  cogni- 
tion and  feeling  are  constant,  the  intensity  of  consciousness 
varies  with  the  intensity  of  desire,  or  of  volition. 

1  Nearly  all  writers  on  psychology  offer  a  definition  of  consciousness. 
Stewart  says:  "It  is  the  immediate  knowledge  which  the  mind  has  of  its 
sensations  and  thoughts,  and,  in  general,  of  all  its  present  operations."  This 
makes  it  a  special  faculty  cognizant  of  self,  which,  indeed,  was  the  doctrine 
of  Stewart,  and  of  Reid,  Royer-Collard,  and  Adolphe  Gamier.  Hamilton  on 
one  page  renounces  any  attempt  to  define  it,  and  on  the  next  says:  "It 
is  the  recognition  by  the  mind  or  ego  of  its  acts  and  affections. "  — il/e to. , 
pp.  132,  133.  This  is  the  mere  conscia  sibi.  So  Porter,  Htim.  Intel,  §§  67, 
75.  Elsewhere  Hamilton  has:  "Consciousness  and  Immediate  knowledge 
are  terms  mutually  convertible  ;  and  if  there  be  an  immediate  knowledge  of 
things  external,  there  is  consequently  the  consciousness  of  an  outer  world." 
—  Discussions,  p.  57.  This  is  better.  But  still  better:  "Consciousness  is 
the  fundamental  form,  the  generic  condition  of  all  the  modes  of  mental 
activity."  —  Id.,  p.  54.  Cf.  Meta.,  p.  126.  Says  Mill :  "  A  feeling  and  a  state 
of  consciousness  are  equivalent  expressions.  Feeling  is  a  genus,  of  which 
sensation,  emotion,  thought,  and  volition  are  subordinate  species."  —  Zof/ic, 
bk.  i,  ch.  1,  §§  3,  5.  The  extent  here  given  to  consciousness  is  just ;  but  not 
that  given  to  feeling.     They  should  not  be  identified. 

Wundt's  view  is  not  unlike  that  taken  in  the  text.  He  holds  that  per- 
ception, representation,  idea,  feeling,  volition,  form  a  continuity  called  con- 
sciousness, of  which  only  tautological  definitions  can  be  formulated.  Its 
fundamental  characteristic,  given  in  experience,  is  unity  ;  its  condition,  that 
mental  facts  be  united  and  co-ordinated  according  to  law.  The  physiological 
basis  of  the  unity  of  consciousness  is  the  continuity  of  the  nervous  system, 
and  this  excludes  the  possibility  of  diverse  kinds  of  consciousness.  Con- 
sidered in  its  psychological  aspect,  consciousness  is  a  unification,  an  activity 
that  essentially  unites  and  combines  all  mental  phenomena  as  their  common 
characteristic. 


CONDITIONS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  59 


CHAPTER   III. 

CONDITIONS   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

§  56.  The  constitution  of  mind  and  brain  being  given  as  a 
primary  condition,  we  may  discover  still  two  other  conditions 
of  consciousness,  the  first  a  condition  of  its  existence,  the 
second  of  its  continuance.^ 

Opj)osition  conditions  the  existence  of  consciousness. 
Primarily  an  opposition  between  the  ego  and  a  non-ego  is 
requisite.^  This  non-ego  must  be  not  merely  different  from 
the  ego,  but  also  in  direct  opposition  to  it ;  it  must  through 
some  channel  of  sense  enter  in  upon  and  forcibly  impress  the 
ego,  otherwise  consciousness  can  never  be.  The  first  awak- 
ening, the  first  moment  of  consciousness  is  due  doubtless  to 
the  impression  of  a  non-ego  through  the  tactile  or  muscular 
sense.  Thereafter  throughout  life  our  various  senses  are 
almost  constantly  in  exercise.  Their  objects  are  continually 
assailing  the  ego,  and  by  virtue  of  such  opposition  there  is 
consciousness. 

Moreover,  opposition  between  coexisting  states  of  mind 
excites  consciousness.  Opposition  occurs  between  sense- 
perceptions,  memories,  imaginings,  and  thoughts,  between 
feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain,  between  conflicting  desires, 
between  the  alternatives  of  .choice,  between  an  effort  of  the 
will  and  the  resistance  it  encounters.  Thus  within  each  of 
the  departments  of  mind,  as  well  as  by  their  contrasts  with 

1  A  condition  (conditio  sine  qua  non)  is  something  that  must  be  in  order 
that  something  else  may  be. 

2  The  contrast  between  existence  and  non-existence  is  insufficient,  for  I 
cannot  be  conscious  of  the  non-existent.  The  non-ego  opposed  to  self,  de- 
spite the  negative  form  of  the  word,  must  be  a  positively  existing  thing. 


60  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

each  other,  the  conclition  is  fulfilled,  and  all  are  self-luminous 
with  consciousness. 

§  57.  Change  conditions  the  continuance  of  consciousness. 
We  have  spoken  of  coexisting  states ;  we  are  now  to  speak 
of  successive  states. 

It  is  a  constitutional  fact  that  consciousness  awakened  in 
any  one  mode  does  not  long  continue.  It  directly  begins  to 
subside,  and  in  most  cases  subsides  rapidly.  The  tactile 
impression,  for  example,  must  be  continually  renewed  in 
order  to  be  maintained.  And  this  is  true  in  all  departments 
of  mind.  An  unvarying  impression  soon  ceases  to  affect 
us,  and  consciousness  of  it  soon  sinks  to  zero.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  changes  of  impression  maintain  full  conscious- 
ness, and  rapid  changes  excite  intense  consciousness.  For 
example,  the  irregularity  of  motion  in  a  stage-coach,  and  the 
clangor  of  a  bell. 

§  58.  The  condition  change  is  subordinate  to  opposition, 
for  change  is  only  the  introduction  of  some  new  opposition, 
bringing  about  successive  states  unlike,  and  therefore  opposed 
to  each  other.  Hence  we  may  comprise  the  two  under  a  single 
formula,  the  Law  of  Relativity  :  Every  mode  of  consciousness 
subsists  by  virtue  of  an  opposition.  This  is  a  primary  law 
of  mind.  In  respect  of  experience,  it  is  universal.  Every 
experience  is  tAvofold.  All  feeling,  all  knowing,  is  double. 
The  doctrine  that  contraries  are  congenital,  that  they  are  pro- 
duced together  and  necessarily  coexist,  is  illustrated  by  the 
multitude  of  correlative  terms  in  every  language,  as  straight 
and  crooked,  knowledge  and  ignorance.  Every  afifirmation 
is,  therefore,  also  a  negation,  and  the  knowledge  of  tlie  abso- 
lute is  impossible.^ 

1  Omnis  affinnalio  est  negatio.  —  Si-iJiosA..  On  the  law,  with  many  ilhis- 
trations,  see  Bain,  Mind  and  Body,  ch.  4 ;  and  Senses  and  Intellect,  p.  ?21. 
The  absolute  is  that  which  has  no  relation. 


CONDITIONS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  HI 

§  59.  In  the  awakening  of  any  mode  of  consciousness,  and 
in  each  subsequent  modification,  we  experience  a  shock  of 
difference.  Both  the  opposition  in  coexisting  states  and  the 
change  in  successive  states  are  attended  by  this  feeling,  itself 
the  beginning  or  the  revival  of  the  mode  of  consciousness. 
Hence  the  most  elementary,  the  most  fundamental  movement 
of  mind  implies  a  discrimination,  a  comparison,  a  contrast,  and 
without  this  neither  the  most  elaborate  nor  the  most  refined 
and  transient  mood  is  possible.  I  could  not  know  even  my 
own  existence  did  not  some  other  existence  press  in  upon  me, 
and  in  the  shock  of  difference  make  me  conscious  that  I  am. 

By  a  familiar  logical  law  no  two  things  are  absolutely  dif- 
ferent, they  must  in  some  respect  be  similar;  nor  are  there  any 
two  things  absolutely  similar,  they  must  in  some  respect  be 
different.  A  consciousness  of  the  difference  implies  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  similarity ;  for  by  the  law  of  relativity 
itself  there  can  be  no  consciousness  of  the  one  except  by 
virtue  of  an  opposed  consciousness  of  the  other.  They  are 
psychological  correlatives.^  All  knowledge,  then,  resolves 
ultimately  into  a  consciousness  of  similarity  in  the  midst  of 
contrariety.  A  definition,  for  example,  is  a  perfected  expres- 
sion of  knowledge,  and  to  define  a  thing  is  to  state  its  agree- 
ment with  some  things  (^emts),  and  its  disagreement  with 
others  (^differentia'). 

1  In  Nic.  Mh.,  vi,  1,  Aristotle  adopts  the  principle  of  similarity  as  the 
basis  of  all  knowledge. 


62  CONSCIOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


LIMITS   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS. 


§  60.  Consciousness  is  subject  to  limitations.  First,  it  is 
only  of  the  actual,  not  of  the  potential  (§  53).  I  know  the 
alphabet,  I  can  sa}^  it.  This  is  potential  knowledge,  but  not 
actual,  not  conscious  knowledge,  the  thing  not  being  just  now 
present  in  consciousness.  I  can  suffer  pain,  but  just  now  am 
conscious  of  none.  Conscious  pain  must  be  actual.  I  am  not 
at  all  conscious  of  any  of  my  powers,  except  when  in  actual 
exercise.  I  may  be  conscious  of  a  belief  in  my  power  to  do 
this  or  that,  but  this  confidence  is  not  a  consciousness  of  the 
ability,  of  the  faculty  itself. 

§  61.  Secondly,  consciousness  is  only  of  the  present.  I  can- 
not be  conscious  of  the  past,  for  it  has  ceased  to  be,  or  of  the 
future,  for  as  yet  it  is  not.  I  cannot  be  conscious  of  what 
does  not  exist.  Nor  can  I  be  conscious  of  what  is  absent,  for 
virtually  it  is  non-existent.  I  am  conscious  only  of  what  is 
present  in  time  and  space,  of  what  is  now  and  here. 

Hence  what  is  consciously  known  is  immediately  and  not 
mediately  known,  for  that  which  is  now  and  here  does  not 
need,  does  not  admit,  a  medium,  but  is  Avithin  the  sphere  of 
consciousness.  Memory,  for  example,  is  a  conscious  act, 
a  mode  of  consciousness.  In  it  my  present  mental  image  of 
a  past  event  is  immediately,  consciously  known,  for  it  is  now 
and  here  witliin  consciousness  ;  but  the  past  event  itself  is  not 
consciously,  but  mediately,  known  through  the  mental  image. 
A  belief  concerning  a  past  event  is  often  called  a  conscious- 
ness of  it ;  for  example,  I  am  conscious  of  having  done  wrong. 
Obviously  this  is  mere  belief.     I  am  conscious  of  the  convie- 


LIMITS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  63 

tion,   but  not  of  the   wrong-doing  itself,   for  it  has   passed 
away. 

§  62.  A  third  limitation  is  that  consciousness  is  only  of  the 
positive,  not  of  the  negative.  Though  I  cannot  be  conscious 
of  an  absent  thing,  may  I  not  be  conscious  of  the  absence 
of  a  thing?  We  say,  I  am  conscious  of  silence,  i.e.  of  the 
absence  of  sound,  a  pure  negative.  But  this  means  only  that 
I  am  not  conscious  of  sound.  A  consciousness  of  ignorance 
means  only  an  unconsciousness  of  knowledge.  When  a  thing 
is  absent  from  consciousness,  we  speak  of  its  absence  as  if 
that  were  itself  a  thing.  But  it  is  a  nothing,  a  void,  a  mere 
negation  of  the  thing,  and  so  there  is  merely  unconsciousness 
of  it.  It  were  absurd  to  say,  I  am  conscious  of  unconscious- 
ness. 

§  63.  Certain  other  conceivable  limitations  are  questioned. 
First.  Are  we  conscious  always?  Since  consciousness  varies 
in  intensity,  does  it  not  sometimes  sink  to  zero  ? 

Though  we  often  speak  of  being  wholly  unconscious,  it 
cannot  be  proved  that  there  is  ever  such  a  state.  We  can- 
not observe  directly  the  consciousness  of  another,  much  less 
an  unconsciousness.  When  his  external  senses  are  com- 
pletely torpid,  and  all  communication  thereby  closed,  how 
can  we  judge  of  his  inner  state  ?  That  we  can  find  no 
external  signs  of  consciousness  does  not  prove  unconscious- 
ness. 

Nor  can  one  testify  to  his  own  unconsciousness.  On  arous- 
ing from  complete  torpor,  I  can  say  only  that  I  remember 
nothing.  That  there  seems  no  interval  of  time  between 
before  and  after  is  merely  no  memory.  Having  no  memory 
of  consciousness  does  not  prove  unconsciousness. 

The  supposition  that  consciousness,  in  its  varying  intensity, 
may  sometimes  reach  zero,  is  fairly  balanced  by  the  supposi- 
tion that  there  may  be  a  minimum  for  consciousness  short 
of  zero. 


G4  CONSCIOUSJ\'J£Sti. 

Therefore  it  cannot  be  said  that  there  is  ever  a  dreamless 
sleep.  But  the  fact  that  the  mind  is  often  awake  and  dream- 
ing while  the  senses  are  asleep  is  established ;  whereas  that 
it  sometimes  sleeps  along  with  them  is  unproved.  Hence  it 
is  admissible  to  suppose  that  it  is  always  awake,  is  always 
conscious.  This  justifies  the  definition  of  mind  as  conscious 
substance,  and  has  been  the  common  opinion  of  psychologists.^ 

§  64.  Second.  Are  we  conscious  of  more  than  one  thing 
at  a  time  ?  A  slight  consideration  will  show  that  we  are 
usually  conscious  of  many  things  simultaneously.  Cognition, 
feeling,  desire,  and  volition  are  distinct  conscious  activities, 
and  all  are  constantly  in  exercise.  My  cognitive  conscious- 
ness is  never  exclusively  occupied  with  a  single  object. 
Many  colors,  many  sounds,  are  simultaneously  perceived. 
All  the  senses  may  be  at  once  in  action,  and  each  on  a  vari- 
ety of  objects.  Memory  is  never  of  one  thing  alone,  but  of 
many  together,  and  the  same  is  true  of  thouglits.  Yet  I 
perceive,  remember,  and  think,  all  in  the  same  instant. 

Along  with  these  cognitions  are  many  sensations  and  emo- 
tions. Surprise,  mirth,  admiration,  vexation,  belief,  are  all 
compatible  in  consciousness.  Even  opposites  may  coexist. 
I  may,  while  hoping  for  one  thing,  despair  of  another ;  while 
courageously  meeting  a  danger,  dread  its  possible  conse- 
quences. There  is  often  a  conflict  of  emotions,  and  also  of 
desires,  not  a  duel,  but  a  battle  between  hosts. 

Whoever  will  examine  any  ordinary  state  of  his  mind 
must  soon  discover  that  he  is  conscious,  not  of  one,  nor  of  a 
few,  but  of  a  multitude  of  things  at  once.     It  should   be 

1  Plato  affirms  the  continuous  energy  of  intellect.  Aristotle  is  undecided. 
Cicero  says :  ^'■Nunqnam  animus  agitatione  et  niotu  vacuus  potest  esse."  — 
De  Div.  ii,  02.  So  also  Auj;ustinc.  Descartes  made  thought  the  very  essence 
of  mind,  which  therefore  always  thinks.  Locke  maintained  the  contrary. — 
Essay,  bk.  ii,  ch.  1.  Leibnitz  opposed  Locke's  views,  showing  them  incon- 
clusive, but  did  not  himself  affirm.  —  None.  Ess.,  lib.  ii,  ch.  1.  Kant  affirms. 
—  A  nthropoUxjip,  §§  oO,  o(5.  Hamilton  affirms  with  some  hesitation.  —  Mcta., 
Lee.  17.     Joui'froy  affirms  decidedly.  — Mchinijes,  p.  290  sq. 


LIMITS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  65 

remarked,  however,  that  of  this  multitude  very  few  are  in 
clear  consciousness ;  the  great  majority,  though  distinguisha- 
ble, are  indistinct,  actually  but  only  obscurely  present. ^  It 
is  the  function  of  attention  to  bring  an  object  already  present 
in  cognitive  consciousness,  though  obscure  and  confused  with 
others,  out  into  clear  and  distinct  consciousness.  It  operates 
according  to  the  following  law  of  limitation :  The  extension 
of  our  knowledge  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  its  intension.  That  is 
to  say,  the  more  intently  we  consider  an  object,  the  fewer  or 
less  clear  will  be  the  other  objects  present  in  consciousness ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  greater  the  number  of  objects  to 
which  our  consciousness  is  simultaneously  extended,  the 
smaller  is  the  intensity  with  Avhich  it  is  able  to  consider  any 
one.  When  consciousness  takes  hold  on  and  attends  to  one 
object  in  disregard  of  others,  then  the  intensity  of  conscious- 
ness relatively  to  it  is  acquired  at  the  expense  of  the  vivid- 
ness of  the  other  objects,  they  becoming  confused,  obscure, 
and  many  perhaps  passing  entirely  out  of  consciousness. 
Thus  the  intension  limits  the  extension. 

§  65.  Third.  Are  we  conscious  of  all  mental  activities  ? 
Are  there  not  certain  mental  activities  of  which  we  are  un- 
conscious ? 

Quite  a  number  of  facts  in  the  history  of  mental  experi- 
ence are  hardly  explicable  upon  commonly  admitted  psycho- 
logical principles.  To  explain  them,  an  hypothesis  of 
unconscious  activities  has  been  proposed.  It  supposes  that 
simultaneously  with  our  conscious  activities  there  is  a  con- 
tinuous series  of  activities  out  of  consciousness,  either  of  an 
intensity  too  low  to  excite  a  consciousness  of  them,  or  of  a 

1  Says  Leibnitz  :  "We  must  observe  that  we  think  of  a  great  many  things 
at  once,  but  take  heed  only  of  those  thoughts  that  are  the  more  prominent." 
—  Nouv.  Ess.,  lib.  ii,  ch.  1.  Cardaillac  recognized  the  importance  to  psychol- 
ogy of  this  doctrine.  See  his  Etudes  Element,  de  Philos.,  t.  ii,  ch.  5.  The 
scholastics  earnestly  discussed  the  question  :  "  Possetne  intellectus  noster 
plura  siinul  mtelligere.''  The  widely  comprehensive  area  of  consciousness 
is  now  generally  admitted. 


66  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

nature  that  excludes  them  from  consciousness.  It  supposes 
that  these  latent  or  sub-conscious  activities  are  important  fac- 
tors of  conscious  life,  so  that  states  of  which  we  are  conscious 
often  originate  in  and  are  determined  by  activities  of  which 
we  are  unconscious.  The  hypothesis  is  not  new,  but  has 
grown  into  new  favor  of  late,  and  been  expanded  into  a 
philosophy  of  the  unconscious.^ 

But  sub-conscious  activities  can  only  be  inferred  to  exist 
as  causes  of  unexplained  effects,  those  causes  being  otherwise 
utterly  unknown.  Now,  logical  law  condemns  an  hyj)othesis 
of  a  cause  which  is  not  vera  causa  (a  cause  otherwise  known 
to  be),  especially  in  the  absence  of  proof  that  no  other 
hypothesis  can  account  for  the  facts.  The  present  hypoth- 
esis fails  on  both  points,  and  therefore  stands  condemned. ^ 

Further  investigation  may  perhaps  refer  the  unexplained 
facts  to  known  causes.     This  has  been  the  case  in  several 

1  Leibnitz  held  the  doctrine,  but  not  clearly.  Hamilton  in  one  place  says  : 
"The  rise  or  awakening  of  a  mental  modification  is  also  the  rise  or  awak- 
ening of  consciousness."  —  Meta.,  p.  242.  Nevertheless,  with  characteristic 
inconsistency,  he  explicates  Leibnitz's  view,  and  founds  his  doctrine  of 
memory  upon  it.  His  "  demonstration  "  (Meta.,  p.  243  sq.)  begs  the  ques- 
tion by  assuming  that  a  cause  too  feeble  to  awaken  consciousness  (e.g.  a  ray 
of  light)  excites  an  activity,  which  therefore  is  out  of  consciousness.  In  an- 
other view  it  is  Fallacia  divisionis.  Thus:  Since  the  two  halves  of  a  mini- 
mum visibile  taken  together  cause  activity,  therefore  each  taken  separately 
Causes  activity.  In  his  Examination  of  Sir  William  Hamilton'' s  Philosophy, 
ch.  8,  Mill  severely  criticises  these  views. 

The  hypothesis  is  still  in  vogue,  and  has  been  worked  up  by  Hartmann  into 
a  Philosophij  of  (he  Unconscioits.  Among  many  others,  AVundt  seems  to 
hold  it.  He  says  :  "  A  full-grown  science  tends  to  unity.  And  observation 
conducts  to  unity  in  psychology.  But  the  agent  of  this  unity  is  outside  of 
consciousness,  which  knows  only  the  results  done  in  the  unknown  laboratory 
beneath  it.  Suddenly  a  new  thought  springs  into  being.  We  know  no 
whence  it  comes,  for  the  conditions  which  have  produced  it  have  already 
disappeared.  Ultimate  analysis  of  psychical  processes  shows  that  the  uncon- 
scious is  the  theatre  of  the  most  important  mental  phenomena.  The  con- 
scious is  always  conditioned  on  the  unconscious."  —  P/i^s.  Pstjc,  Int.,  p.  8. 
If,  as  is  probable,  by  "  the  agent  of  this  unity  "  he  means  the  cortex  of  the 
brain,  then  we  waive  objection. 

■^  Sec  Mill's  Lof/ir,  bk.  iii,  ch.  14,  §  4. 


LIMITS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  67 

instances.  More  especially  we  observe  that  our  acquired  dex- 
terities and  liabits  which  have  been  referred  to  unconscious 
mental  action,  are  now  fully  explained  phj^sically  by  reflex 
action  (§§  36,  37).  Moreover,  the  spontaneous  ordering  of 
thoug'lits  may  fairly  be  referred  to  unconscious  cerebration 
(§  41),  which  reference  to.another  hypothetical  cause,  at  least 
transfers  the  question  to  physiology.  Again,  the  phenomena 
of  spontaneous  memory  may  fairly  be  referred  to  obscure 
consciousness  (§  64).  When  we  are  startled  by  some  un- 
sought remembrance,  it  is  sufficiently  explained  as  the  result 
of  interaction  in  obscure  consciousness,  and  so  does  not 
require  the  hypothesis  of  unconscious  activities. 

When  we  observe  that  the  variations  of  consciousness  and 
activity  are  concomitant,  intense  consciousness  attending 
high  activity,  and  feeble  consciousness  attending  low  activity, 
in  dii'cct  proportion  throughout,  we  rightly  conclude  that,  if 
consciousness  and  activity  are  to  be  regarded  as  distinct  facts, 
then  they  are  related  either  as  cause  and  effect,  or  as  the 
effects  of  a  common  cause.  If  the  former,  then  the  presump- 
tion is  that  the  cessation  of  either  is  attended  by  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  other.  If  the  latter,  then  the  presumption  is  that 
a  cause  too  feeble  to  arouse  consciousness  is  too  feeble  to 
arouse  activity.  It  follows  that  activity  and  consciousness 
come  into  existence  together,  and  cease  together,  and  there 
are  no  sub-conscious  activities. 

But  why  regard  activity  and  consciousness  as  distinct 
facts?  Is  it  not  better  to  identify  them?  Let  us  say  that 
all  consciousness  is  mental  activity,  and  that  all  mental 
activity  is  conscious  activity.  Thus  it  is  opposed  to  physical 
activity,  to  unconscious  material  energy.  In  this  vicAV,  the 
phrase  "  unconscioi,:^s  mental  activities  "  is  self-contradictory 
and  absurd. 


68  CONSCIOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

FACTS   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

§  66.  The  conditions  being  fulfilled,  what,  within  the 
limits  indicated,  is  given  by  consciousness?  What  are  facts 
of  consciousness  ?  Whatever  I  immediately  know,  whatever 
I  feel,  or  desire,  or  will  respecting  myself,  or  respecting  an 
object  present  to  consciousness,  is  a  fact  of  consciousness. 
My  own  existence  in  some  distinct  mode,  or  in  other  words, 
the  existence  of  my  present  mental  state,  is  a  general  fact  of 
consciousness.  That  I  see,  that  I  remember,  that  in  thinking 
I  abstract  and  generalize,  that  I  feel  pain,  that  I  desire  hap- 
piness, and  make  efforts  to  attain  it,  these,  as  present  mental 
modes,  are  special  facts  of  consciousness.  In  perception,  the 
existence  of  the  object  also  is  given  as  a  fact;  I  not  only 
consciously  know,  but  also  am  conscious  of  the  thing  known. 
In  short,  whenever  I  can  trul}^  say,  I  am  conscious  of  this  or 
that,  the  fact,  in  so  far,  is  a  fact  of  consciousness. ^ 

The  phrase,  I  am  conscious  of  this  or  that,  is  often  loosely 
used  of  matter  not  trul}^  within  consciousness.  Should  one 
say,  I  am  conscious  of  the  warmth  of  the  sunshine,  we  may 
grant  him  conscious  of  warmth,  but  that  it  is  of  the  sunshine 
is  an  inference,  and  is  not  given  or  affirmed  by  consciousness. 
To  reach  a  sound  basis  for  our  speculations,  we  must  analyze 
the  mental  content,  and  abstracting  from  all  derived  matter, 
make  clear  the  fact  or  facts  of  conscious]  *  ss. 

1  "  Whenever,  in  our  analysis  of  the  intellectual  ])henomena,  we  arrive  at 
an  element  which  we  cannot  reduce  to  a  generalization  from  experience,  but 
■which  lies  at  the  root  of  all  experience,  and  which  we  cannot,  therefore,  re- 
solve into  any  higher  principle,  this  we  properly  call  a  fact  of  consciousness." 
—  Hamilton,  il/efa.,  p.  187. 


FACTS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  69 

§  67.  A  fact  of  consciousness,  since  it  lies  at  the  beginning 
of  a  mental  combination,  is  primary  ;  being  incapable  of  analy- 
sis into  constituent  facts,  it  is  simple ;  being  in  itself  not  sus- 
ceptible of  explanation,  it  is  ultimate  ;  and  being  merely  given 
as  an  existing  distinct  fact,  it  is  original  and  not  derived.^ 
Moreover,  since  the  data  of  consciousness  constitute  the 
ground  of  proof  of  all  other  facts,  they  themselves  are  incap- 
able of  proof.  But  they  do  not  need  any.  They  have  the 
light  of  truth  in  themselves.  They  are  self-evident.  No 
appeal  can  weaken  or  strengthen  them.  They  are  firmly 
established  by  their  self-evidence,  and  by  that  alone. ^ 

§  68.  A  fact  of  consciousness  is  merely  given,  but  it  is,  as 
it  were,  forcibly  given.  It  cannot  be  refused,  its  self-evidence 
cannot  be  disregarded,  it  must  be  accepted.  In  my  conscious- 
ness that  a  thing  exists,  it  is  implied  that  I  am  constrained 
to  accept  this  existence  as  real.  For  example,  I  hear  a  loud 
continuous  sound,  let  us  say  a  locomotive  whistle.  Of  the 
sound,  I  am  truly  conscious.  I  may  question  its  direction, 
its  cause,  and  many  other  things  respecting  it,  but  its  ex- 
istence and  my  sense-perception  of  it,  I  cannot  doubt  for 
an  instant.  I  cannot  contradict  this  affirmation  of  conscious- 
ness. The  acceptance  of  it  is  enforced  upon  me ;  and  this 
is  implied  in  saying  that  I  am  conscious  of  the  sound. 

This  constraint  attends  consciousness  only.     The  existence 

1  Consciousness  merely  reveals  that  it  is,  not  how  or  why  it  is.  For  if 
the  how  or  why  were  given,  then  it  would  be  a  derived  or  secondary,  and  not 
an  original  and  primary  datum.  An  inference  as  to  its  exciting  cause  or 
occasion  is  a  rational  but  not  a  conscious  explanation. 

It  is  simple  as  a  fact,  is  the  last  fact  attainable  by  analysis.  We  shall 
hereafter  find  that  every  fact  of  consciousness  is  capable  of  resolution  into 
essential  elements,  empirical  and  pure.  But  since  these  elements  can  have 
no  separate  existence  in  consciousness  except  as  mere  logical  abstractions, 
they  are  not  properly  facts  of  consciousness,  and  so  we  refuse  them  that  title. 

2  Each  one  must  discern  the  facts  for  himself  in  the  depths  of  his  own 
consciousness.  We  can  only  help  him  to  find  them.  The  process  of  disclos- 
ing them  may  involve  proof ;  but  once  disclosed,  no  proof  can  be  offered  in 
support  of  them. 


70  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

of  a  thing  not  within  consciousness  is  not  assertive,  but  prob- 
lematical. How  can  I  affirm  it  to  be  ?  I  may  believe  very 
strongly  that  it  is,  as  I  believe  the  sun  to  be  in  the  sky.  I 
may  accumulate  logical  proof.  I  may  remember  that  it 
was  within  consciousness  a  moment  ago.  But  now  that  it 
is  not  within  consciousness,  it  may  possibly  or  conceivably 
have  ceased  to  be.  Its  existence,  not  being  a  fact  of  con- 
sciousness, is  questionable. 

§  69.  The  consciousness  of  reality  involves  a  feeling  of 
certainty.  When  I  am  conscious  of  the  existence  of  a  thing 
I  feel  certain  of  it.  The  certainty  is  pure,  strict,  positive, 
absolute.  In  the  consciousness  that  I  am,  for  instance,  there 
is,  together  with  the  cognition  of  my  existence,  a  certainty 
of  the  fact,  a  faith  in  it,  that  has  no  limit.  Indeed,  to  pro- 
fess a  doubt  of  a  fact  of  consciousness  is  the -highest  form  of 
self-contradiction.  Should  one  say,  I  doubt  my  own  exists 
ence,  we  ask  him,  who  doubts  ?  There  can  be  no  delusion  or 
illusion  in  what  is  given  by  consciousness.  Its  facts  stand 
high  above  the  reach  of  skepticism.^ 

It  is  very  important  to  discriminate  clearly  the  facts  of 
consciousness  from  other  facts.  Their  strict  certainty  may 
serve  as  a  criterion.  If  it  be  possible  in  any  manner  or 
measure  to  doubt  a  fact  without  self-contradiction,  then  it 
falls  short  of  certainty,  and  is  not  immediatel}',  consciously, 
given,  but  is  inferred,  mediate,  and  represented.  But  if  even 
the  form  of  doubt  be  impossible,  then  the  feeling  reaches 
strict  certainty,  the  fact  is  a  fact  of  consciousness,  is  immedi- 
ately, consciously  given,  is  an  intuition,  a  presentation. 

One  limitation  is  needful.  A  demonstration,  proceeding 
logically  from   intuitive   principles,    carries   their   certainty 

1  Says  Leibnitz :  "  There  may  be  intelligible  reason  for  error  in  our  medi- 
ate and  external  perceptions  ;  but  if  our  immediate,  internal  experience  could 
possibly  deceive  us,  there  could  no  longer  be  for  us  any  truth  of  fact  (rente 
de  fait),  nay,  nor  any  truth  of  reason  (rerite  de  raisuu).''''  —  Nonv.  Ess.,  lib. 
ii,  ch.  27,  §  13.  The  untenable  notion  that  possibly  my  conciousness  may  in 
some  respect  deceive  me,  is  noticed  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 


FACTS   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  71 

along  with  it,  yet  its  result  is  not  a  fact  of  consciousness ; 
for  it  is  not  original,  but  derived.  Hence  tlie  criterion  reads 
thus :  A  fact  of  consciousness  is  certain  and  original. 

§  70.  The  facts  of  consciousness  constitute  the  subject- 
matter  of  psychology.  Having  ascertained  them,  and 
accepted  them  without  retrenchment,  distortion,  or  addition, 
we  proceed  to  generalize  and  classify  them,  and  to  formulate 
accordingly  the  ultimate  laws  of  mind.  When  this  is 
thoroughly  done,  we  have  a  true  science  of  mind.^ 

But  their  importance  is  more  manifest  when  we  consider 
that  they  alone  are  given  to  man  to  know :  any  further  truth 
he  must  win  by  thinking  on  and  from  them.  They  alone, 
with  what  may  be  strictly  demonstrated  from  them,  are 
certain;  all  other  truth  is,  in  a  higher  or  lower  degree, 
merely  probable.  They  are  the  ultimate  ground,  not  only  of 
all  the  sciences,  but  of  all  knowledge  whatsoever.  Their 
study,  then,  is  of  the  highest  dignity.  We  are  searching  the 
oi'iginal  and  immovable  grounds  of  all  truth,  of  all  faith. 
Science  in  its  perfection  is  knowledge  of  myself,  of  the  world, 
and  of  God.  This  is  its  beginning,  its  mean,  and  its  end. 
The  great  problem  is :  Given  self,  to  find  God. 

1  Hamilton  says :  "  Psychology  is  only  a  developed  consciousness  ;  that  is, 
a  scientific  evolution  of  the  facts  of  which  consciousness  is  at  once  the  guar- 
antee and  revelation,  a  systematic  evolution  of  the  contents  of  consciousness 
through  the  instrumentality  .of  consciousness."  —  Discussions,  p.  91. 

J.  S.  Mill  says  :  "  All  theories  of  the  human  mind  profess  to  he  interpre- 
tations of  consciousness  ;  the  conclusions  of  all  of  them  are  supposed  to  rest 
on  that  ultimate  evidence,  either  immediately  or  remotely.  What  conscious- 
ness directly  reveals,  together  v?ith  what  can  be  legitimately  inferred  from 
its  revelations,  composes,  by  universal  admission,  all  that  we  know  of  the 
mind,  or  indeed  of  any  other  thing.  When  we  know  what  any  philosopher 
considers  to  be  revealed  in  consciousness,  we  have  a  key  to  the  entire  char- 
acter of  his  metaphysical  system."  —  Ex.  of  Hamilton's  Philos.,  oh.  8. 


7  2  CONSCIO  USNESS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MODES   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

§  71.  Consciousness  is  the  universal  and  fundamental  phe- 
nomenon of  mind,  all  whose  modes  are  conscious  modes. 
These  modes  are  first  divided  into  those  that  are  modes  of 
consciousness  and  nothing  more,  and  those  that  are  con- 
sciousness and  something  more.  This  something  more  is  an 
endeavor,  and  hence  the  modes  differentiated  by  it  are  called 
conations.^  In  modes  that  are  consciousness  merely,  we  are 
knowing  and  feeling ;  in  conation  we  are  consciously  wanting 
and  doing.  This  indicates  a  subdivision  into  subjective  and 
objective  modes.  The  objective  mode  of  consciousness  is 
cognition  or  knowledge ;  its  subjective  mode  is  feeling  or 
sensibility.  The  subjective  mode  of  conation  is  desire  ;  its 
objective  mode  is  volition.  These  generic  relations  are 
conveniently  exhibited  in  the  following :  — 

SCHEME   OF   THE   GENERIC   POWERS. 

Consciousness. 

, A . 


(Feeling.  Cognition. "» 

)■  Objective. 
Desire.  Volition,    j 


Conation. 

Consciousness,  in  its  most  general  sense,  we  have  called 
the  fundamental  phenomenon.  Consciousneas  in  the  nar- 
rower sense  and  conation  may  be  called  the  primary  powers. 

^  Conation  (conari,  ronntu!<)  means  an  efforl,  a  nisus,  a  strivinp,  an  en- 
deavor, and  must  be  taken  hero  to  include  the  impulse  and  the  determmation 
or  choice  that  gives  direction  to  the  effort. 


MODES   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  73 

Coo-nition  and  feelin^,  desire  and  volition,  we  shall  call  the 
generic  powers ;  their  subdivisions,  the  specific  powers.^ 

Coo-nition  and  feeling  cannot  exist  apart,  nor,  if  taken 
strictly,  can  desire  and  volition.  Moreover,  conations  are 
conditioned  on  the  modes  of  consciousness,  that  is,  without 
a  present  cognition  and  feeling,  a  conation  cannot  be. 
Hence  the  subjacent  position  of  conation  in  the  scheme  .^ 

§  72.  Cognition  is  consciousness  of  an  object.  To  cognize 
is  to  know.  Obviously  we  cannot  know  without  knowing 
something,  and  that  something  is  the  object.  The  specific 
powers  of  cognition  are  determined  by  specific  differences  in 
the  objects  known.  Knowledge  is  accordingly  of  two  kinds, 
immediate  or  intuitive  or  presentative,  and  mediate  or 
representative. 

The  immediate  cognition  of  a  non-ego  or  object  proper,  is 
perception  ;  the  immediate  cognition  of  a  subject-object  is  self- 
perception.  These  are  specific  presentative  powers.  They 
are  both  empirical  intuitions.  But  actual  cognition  involves 
also  a  pure  or  non-empirical  element,  not  cognized  by  sense, 
but  by  intellect,  and  tliis  immediate  knowledge  is  attributed 

1  The  Peripatetic  division  is  into  the  gnostic  and  oretic  powers,  famltates 
cognoscendi  et  appetendi,  which  survives  in  the  speculative  and  active  powers, 
or  the  understanding  and  will.  It  confuses  desire  and  will,  and  omits  feeling. 
Kant  {Critique  of  Judgment)  made  feeling  co-ordinate,  thus  :  thought,  feeling, 
striving,  Denk,  Gefiihl,  Bestrebungsverm'ogen,  the  latter  including  desire  and 
will.  This  trichotomy,  opposed  in  Germany  but  adopted  in  France,  prevails 
in  England  and  with  us  under  the  modified  form:  intellect,  sensibilities 
(including  desire),  and  will.  Hamilton  followed  Kant,  thus:  cognition,  feel- 
ing, conation.  We  have  adopted  a  dichotomous  division  and  subdivision  as 
more  strictly  logical,  and  more  in  accord  with  the  natural  relations  and 
mutual  dependence  of  the  phenomena. 

2  It  may  be  permitted  to  note  that  this  distribution  is  most  ancient. 
"  When  the  woman  saw  that  the  tree  was  good  for  food  [cognition,  a  percep- 
tion and  a  judgmenf],  and  that  it  was  pleasant  to  the  eyes  [feeling,  a  sensa- 
tion and  a  sentiment'],  and  a  tree  to  be  desired  to  make  one  wise  [desire  or 
velleity,  xcith  final  causeT],  she  took  thereof  and  did  eat  [volition,  including 
choice,  intention,  and  effort  with  fruitiony  —  Gen.  3  :  6. 


74  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

to  a  third  special  presentative  faculty  called  pure  intuition  or 
reason. 

A  remote  object,  one  beyond  the  sphere  of  consciousness, 
can  be  known  only  mediately,  that  is,  through  some  repre- 
sentative. The  specific  powers  thus  cognizing  a  remote 
object,  an  object-object,  are  called  the  representative  powers, 
and  their  exercise,  representation.  They  are  nmnori/,  imagi- 
nation, and  thought. 

§  73.  Feeling  or  sensibility,  in  the  most  general  view,  is 
consciousness  of  self,  of  the  subject.  In  every  state  of  con- 
sciousness there  is  essentially  an  objective  and  a  subjective 
element ;  there  is  both  a  consciousness  of  an  object  as  distin- 
guished from  self,  a  cognition,  and  a  consciousness  of  self  as 
distinguished  from  an  object,  a  feeling.  These  are  psycho- 
logical correlatives,  existing  only  as  they  coexist ;  they  con- 
dition and  complement  each  other;  they  are  the  poles  of 
consciousness.  •  Hence,  as  cognitions  are  modes  of  objective 
consciousness,  so  feelings  are  modes  of  subjective  conscious- 
ness ;  and  consciousness  is  distributed  as  the  cognitive  con- 
sciousness and  the  sensitive  consciousness.^  Relatively  to 
each  other,  the  feelings  fall  into  two  classes,  states  of  pleasure 
and  pain.  Relatively  to  the  coexistent  cognitions,  there  are 
three  classes,  —  sensation,  correlative  to  perception,  emotion 
and  sentiment,  correlative  to  intellect. 

§  74.  Desire  is  the  subjective  element  in  conation,  correla- 
tive to  volition,  the  objective  element.  These  complement 
and  condition  each  other.  As  feeling  has  the  modes  pleasure 
and  pain,  so  desire  has  the  similar  modes,  desire  proper  and 
aversion.  In  general  we  have  a  desire  for  what  gives  pleas- 
ure, and  an  aversion  for  what  gives  pain.     Desires  are  also 

1  A  fuller  justification  of  this  view  will  be  given  when  we  come  to  treat 
specifically  of  the  feelings,  Part  IV.  The  essential  and  important  distinction 
between  feeling  and  desire,  so  commonly  disregarded,  will  also  be  subse- 
i|ucntly  treated,  Tart  V. 


MODES   OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  75 

divided  into  the  physical,  as  the  appetites,  which  correspond 
to  sensations,  and  the  psychical,  as  the  affections,  which  cor- 
respond to  sentiments. 

§  75.  Volition  or  will,  the  objective  mode  of  conation,  has 
for  its  direct,  immediate  object  an  action.  There  are  at  least 
two  elements :  first,  choice,  or  the  preference  given  to  one 
action  over  another;  and,  second,  the  effo7't  to  perform  that 
action.  The  immediate  issue  of  choice  is  intention ;  the 
immediate  issue  of  effort  is  attention.  The  latter  determines 
both  mental  and  muscular  action. 

§  76.  The  foregoing  analysis  of  the  mental  powers,  in  their 
co-ordination  and  subordination,  gives  rise  to  the  follow- 
ing:— 

SCHEME   OF   THE   SPECIFIC   POWEKS. 

I.    Consciousness. 

1.  Objective  consciousness,  or  Cognition. 

A.  Presentation,  or  Intuition. 

(1)  Perception.  I    g^^^^^^ 

(2)  Self -perception.      J 

(3)  Pure  Intuition. 

B.  Representation. 

(4)  Memory.  J>  Intellect. 

(5)  Imagination. 

(6)  Thought. 

2.  Subjective  consciousness,  or  Feeling. 

(1)  Sensation. 

(2)  Emotion. 

(3)  Sentiment. 
II.   Conation. 

1.  Subjective  conation,  or  Desire. 

(1)  Physical. 

(2)  Psychical. 

2.  Objective  conation,'  or  Volition. 

(1)  Choice. 

(2)  Effort. 

§  77.  A  mind  is  a  unit.  In  the  various  divisions  of  its 
powers  we  are  apt  to  see  corresponding  parts  of  mind ;  in  its 


76  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

various  acts,  various  actors  ;  in  its  various  functions,  various 
organs.  But  the  mind,  unlike  the  body,  has  no  parts,  has  no 
organs.  It  is  conscious  of  differences  in  its  modes  of  activity, 
and  these  it  distinguishes  by  names,  and  classifies.  But  the 
absolute  one  that  knows  is  the  same  that  feels,  is  the  same 
that  strives.  So  one  and  the  same  particle  of  matter  attracts 
all  others,  elects  some,  emits  light  and  heat,  and  exerts  and 
is  subject  to  electrical  influences.  A  particle  of  matter  may 
fairly  be  defined  as  an  origin  of  forces.  These  forces  are 
manifest  in  their  effects,  in  objective  phenomena.  Perhaps 
physical  force  is  one,  and  the  variety  in  phenomena  due  to 
the  various  conditions  under  which  it  acts.  It  may  help  our 
conception  of  the  unity  of  mind  to  consider  that  in  like  man- 
ner the  conscious  subject  is  merely  a  source  of  powers  mani- 
fest in  their  effects,  in  subjective  phenomena,  and  that  these 
powers  are  modifications  of  one,  of  consciousness. 

§  78.  It  is  important  to  observe  also  that  the  generic  powers 
of  mind  are  always  simultaneously  in  exercise.  Cognition, 
feeling,  desire,  and  will  may  be  discerned  in  every  actual  state 
of  this  unit.  Each  state  is  a  single  instantaneous  activity  capa- 
ble of  only  a  logical  resolution  into  conceivable  components 
which  never  in  any  case  exist  singly  and  apart.  Successive 
states  exhibit  a  varying  predominance  of  one  element  over 
another,  and  but  for  this  the  analysis  would  perhaps  be  imprac- 
ticable. Moreover,  the  specific  powers  likewise  act  simulta- 
neously, yet  with  varying  intensity.  At  one  and  the  same 
instant  the  conscious  subject  may  be  perceiving,  remembering, 
imagining,  thinking,  experiencing  sensations  and  emotions, 
desiring,  choosing,  striving.  This  should  not  tax  our  credulity 
more  than  the  familiar  fact  that  a  single  particle  of  matter 
constantly  and  simultaneously  exerts  a  great  variety  of  widely 
distinct  j^hysical  forces. 


PART  SECOND. 
IMMEDIATE     KNO^A^^LEDGE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

COGNITION. 

§  79.  A  consideration  of  cognition  in  its  general  aspect  is 
prerequisite  to  the  specific  treatment  of  immediate  knowl- 
edge. 

A  state  of  consciousness  contemplated  on  its  objective  side, 
that  is,  as  related  to  an  object,  is  called  a  cognition.'  Cogni- 
tion is  consciousness  of  an  object.  This  is  knowledge.  To 
cognize  is  to  know.^ 

All  forms  of  cognition  are  merely  modes  of  the  objective 
consciousness.  We  cannot  specifically  discriminate  percep- 
tion, or  memory,  or  imagination,  or  thought,  from  knowing, 
for  these  are  only  modes  of  knowing.  Every  act  of  intelli- 
gence is  thus  a  modified  consciousness,  and  the  cognitive  con- 
sciousness has  no  existence  whatever  except  in  one  or  another 
of  these  special  modes.^  The  mode  which  it  shall  assume  is 
determined  by  the  object  known.     If  the  object  be  present 

1  "Cognition,  Lat.  cognitio,  a  finding  out;  co-  (for  con,  wliicli  for  cmn, 
togetlier)  and  gnoscere,  to  know."  —  Skeat.     Cf.  yuuxris,  from  yvQvaL. 

2  For  illustration :  Goethe  found  every  organic  member  of  a  plant  to  be 
a  modified  generic  leaf.  The  fruit,  the  flower  and  its  parts,  the  plant  as  a 
whole,  are  each  metamorphosed  leaves.  And,  indeed,  the  leaf  proper  is 
only  a  nearer  approximation  in  form  to  the  generic  typical  leaf.  So  each  of 
the  intellectual  states  is  a  modification  of  one  generic  form,  which  apart 
from  these  has  only  a  logical  existence. 

77 


78  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

now  and  here,  within  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  and  there- 
fore immediately  known,  then  we  have  a  presentation,  an 
intuition  or  immediate  knowledge.  If  the  object  be  remote 
ill  time  or  space,  beyond  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  and 
therefore  known  only  through  some  medium,  then  we  have  a 
representation  or  mediate  knowledge.  Specifically,  a  present 
color,  sound,  or  odor  determines  the  mode  to  be  perception; 
a  representation  of  some  past  experience,  memory ;  and  so  on. 
The  modes  thus  determined  are  presently  to  be  discussed. 

§  80.  It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  a  state  of  con- 
sciousness is  produced  by  a  shock  of  difference,  and  that  a 
cognition  of  difference  involves  discrimination  and  comparison 
(§  59).  This  becomes  quite  evident  when  we  consider  that 
all  knowledge  is  a  relation  between  a  subject  knowing  and  an 
object  known,  as  expressed  in  the  general  formula  :  I  know  it. 
Now  it  is  impossible  for  this  relation  to  subsist,  unless  there 
be  a  contrast,  and  the  subject  so  constituted  as  to  discrimi- 
nate. For  I  know  only  in  so  far  as  I  know  something,  and  I 
know  that  something  only  in  so  far  as  I  distinguish  it  from 
what  it  is  not.  This  discrimination  implies  a  comparison,  and 
it  follows  that  comparison  occurs  in  every  act  of  knowledge, 
even  the  simplest.^ 

Comparison  implies  analysis  and  synthesis.  In  so  far  as 
objects  are  found  dissimilar  they  are  set  apart ;  this  is  analy- 
sis. In  so  far  as  they  are  found  similar  they  are  united ;  this 
is  synthesis.  Hence  the  issue  of  comparison  is  judgment,  for 
judgment  is  the  conscious  act  wherein  one  thing  is  atlirmed 
or  denied  of  another,  a  declaration  of  similarity  or  difference. 
Judging  is  commonly  considered  a  compound  or  derivative 
operation,  but  here  it  appears  that  the  simplest  act  of  intelli- 

^  The  first  experience,  the  first  moment  of  consciousness,  is  doubtless  a  dis- 
covery of  tlie  existence  of  two  things,  ego  and  a  non-ego,  by  virtue  of  their 
opposition,  which  implies  comparison.  And  so  throughout  cognition.  Our 
originally  simple  and  our  factitiously  complex,  our  abstract  and  our  general- 
ized notions,  all  are  acts  and  results  of  comparison  in  its  various  applications 
and  degrees. 


COGNITION.  79 

gence  implies  a  judgment,  and  that  so  far  from  being  a  pro- 
cess only  subsequent  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  it  is 
the  very  essence  of  every  cognitive  act.^ 

We  should,  however,  distinguish  between  primary  or  psy- 
chological judgments  and  inferences,  the  latter  being  secon- 
dary and  logical.  A  psychological  judgment,  such  as,  I  am, 
is  certain  and  original,  and  so  a  fact  of  consciousness.  A 
logical  judgment  or  inference,  such  as,  I  shall  be,  is  uncertain 
and  derived.  The  one  cannot  be  proved,  but  is  self-evident ; 
to  obtain  the  other  a  logical  process  is  requisite,  and  so  it  is 
an  inference.  Psychological  judgments  are  the  condition  and 
ground  of  all  others  ;  they  are  the  foundation  of  knowledge. 

§  81.  Cognition  is  a  condition  of  all  other  mental  activities. 
I  cannot  feel  unless  there  be  some  known  object  to  determine 
in  me  the  kind  and  degree  of  feeling.  I  cannot  desire,  unless 
there  be  some  known  object  toward  which  my  longing  tends. 
I  cannot  choose,  unless  there  be  alternative  objects  of  cogni- 
tion desired.  I  cannot  make  a  voluntary  effort,  unless  I  form 
prospectively  an  image  of  the  action.  Hence  I  am  essentially 
an  intelligent  being.  Since  cognition  conditions  the  other 
generic  powers,  it  is  proper  to  treat  of  it  first. 

§  82.  Attention  is  an  intensity  of  cognition.  We  have 
defined  cognition  to  be  consciousness  of  an  object.  We  now 
define  attention  to  be  consciousness  concentrated  on  an  ob- 
ject ;  or  a  concentration  of  the  cognitive  consciousness.  This 
intensified,  concentrated  consciousness  is,  of  course,  always 
in  some  special  mode,  in  some  special  faculty  of  cognition,  as 
perception,  memory,  thought.^ 

1  In  the  psychology  of  Lotze  and  of  Wundt,  the  act  of  comparison  under 
the  eye  of  attention,  i.e.  the  discernment  of  tlie  relation  between  objects,  has 
received  the  title  apperception,  a  term  borrowed  from  Leibnitz.  It  has  value 
as  emphasizing  an  act  common  to  all  cognitive  states,  and  thus  unifying  their 
exercise. 

2  The  etymology  of  the  word  attention  {ad-tendere,  to  stretch  towards)  in- 
dicates intensity,  a  cognate  word.     Cf.  the  words  lust,  list,  listen,  listless, 


80  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Some  psychologists  have  treated  attention  as  a  special 
faculty.  But  attention  is  coextensive  with  the  cognitive  con- 
sciousness ;  for  it  requires  a  known  object,  and  any  object 
that  can  be  known  may,  through  its  special  faculty,  become 
an  object  of  attention.  Cognition  and  attention  cannot  there- 
fore be  distinguished  as  differing  in  kind.  The  difference  is 
merely  one  of  degree.^ 

But  may  not  consciousness  be  concentrated  in  the  subject  ? 
Certainly  there  is  an  intense  self-consciousness.  All  feelings 
vary  in  intensity,  as  also  do  desires.  Yet,  since  there  is  no 
object,  we  never  speak  of  them  as  attentive,  but  rather  as 
passionate.  Attention  knows  an  object,  and  hence  the  limi- 
tation to  cognition. 

§  83.  Attention  operates  according  to  the  following  Law 
of  Limitation :  The  extension  of  cognition  at  any  instant  is 
in  inverse  ratio  to  its  intension.  That  is  to  say,  the  more 
intently  I  consider  an  object,  the  fewer  or  less  clear  will  be 
the  other  objects  in  consciousness ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  greater  the  number  of  objects  to  which  consciousness  is 
simultaneously  extended,  the  smaller  is  the  intensity  with 
which  it  is  able  to  consider  any  one.^  I  am  usually  conscious 
of  many  things  at  once  (§  64).  Now  when  consciousness  is 
concentrated  on  some  one  of  these,  to  the  disregard  of  others, 

from  the  Anglo-Saxon  lustan,  to  incline  or  lean  towards.  Their  secondary 
meaning  was  suggested,  possibly,  by  the  natural  attitude  of  the  body  corre- 
sponding to  the  state  of  mind. 

1  In  recent  psychology  as  well  as  in  the  earlier,  there  is  a  strong  disposi- 
tion to  treat  attention  as  a  special  and  dominant  faculty.  See  Eibot,  Studies 
in  Attention.  But,  beside  what  is  said  above,  this  violates  a  fundamental 
law  of  philosophizing,  called  Occam's  Law  of  Parcimony :  "  Entia  non  sunt 
muItipUcanda  praiter  necessitatem.''''  A  plurality  of  principles  is  not  to  be 
assumed  when  the  phenomena  can  be  explained  by  one.  "  Frustra  fit  per 
plura  quod  fieri  potest  per  pauciora."  See  Hamilton,  Aleta.,  p.  225,  and 
p.  321 ;  also  in  lieid,  note  A  (p.  T-'Sl,  at  foot);  but  especially  Grote,  Aristotle, 
vol.  ii,  p.  25,  note.  Logical  absurdity  is  a  violation  of  the  Law  of  Contradic- 
tion.   Philosophical  absurdity  is  a  violation  of  the  Law  of  Parcimony. 

2  Thus  the  old  adage:  ^^ Phirifms  intentus,  minor  est  ad  singula  sensus.''^ 
See  Hamilton,  Meta.,  pp.  1()4,  171. 


COGNITION.  81 

then  the  intensity  rehative  to  it  is  acquired  at  the  expense 
of  the  vividness  of  the  others.  They  become  confused  and 
obscure,  and  perhaps  many  pass  entirely  out  of  consciousness. 
Thus  the  intensity  of  present  knowledge  limits  its  extension. 
When  listening  to  an  eloquent  discourse  an  assembly  will 
remain  motionless ;  but  no  sooner  is  it  ended  than  a  move- 
ment of  the  whole  audience  shows  that  each  one  has  become 
conscious  of  some  discomfort  which  he  seeks  to  relieve,  and 
perhaps  is  startled  to  find  himself  suddenly  in  the  presence 
of  hundreds,  when  but  the  moment  before  he  was  alone  with 
the  speaker.  Many  a  soldier  wounded  during  the  heat  of 
battle  has  not  discovered  it  until  exhausted  by  loss  of  blood ; 
and  many  a  martyr  has  suffered  at  the  stake  with  calm 
serenity,  his  attention  being  so  engrossed  with  beatific  visions 
that  the  flames  had  no  power  of  torture. ^ 

§  84.  Attention  to  an  external  thing  is  observation ;  atten- 
tion to  an  internal  mental  image  of  a  thing  is  reflection.^ 
The  former  relates  to  objects  of  sense ;  the  latter,  to  subjec- 
tive objects.  Observation  is  only  of  a  thing  present ;  whereas 
reflection  considers  also  something  not  now  present,  but 
represented  by  the  mental  image.  Observation  without 
reflection  hardly  does  more  than  amass  facts ;  reflection  with- 
out observation  needs  material.     As  a  habit  of  mind  one  or 

1  Sir  Walter  Scott,  while  painfully  ill,  dictated  almost  the  whole  of  Ivan- 
hoe.  When  a  dialogue  of  special  interest  was  in  progress,  he  would  rise 
from  his  couch  and  walk  to  and  fro  with  the  greatest  animation,  unconscious 
of  the  pangs  that  a  moment  before  and  after  extorted  from  Mm  groans  of 
agony. — Lockhart,  Life  of  Scott,  ch.  44. 

A  skilful  portrait-painter  will  depict  the  features  of  his  subject  clearly  and 
distinctly,  but  will  "sink"  the  drapery,  the  background,  and  other  acces- 
sories, making  them  comparatively  indistinct.  This  does  not  represent  nature 
as  it  is,  but  as  it  appears  ;  it  corresponds  to  our  state  of  consciousness  when 
we  intently  observe  the  features  of  another  person.  The  artist  thus  leads  us 
to  contemplate  the  features  of  the  portrait,  for  that  is  the  attitude  in  which 
the  spectator  finds  most  ease. 

2  Reid,  as  understood  by  Stewart,  gives  us  this  distinction,  but  in  common 
usage  it  is  not  strictly  observed. 


82  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

the  other  generally  preponderates,  so  that  men  of  science 
may  fairly  be  divided  into  observers  and  thinkers  ;  the  former 
furnisliing  matter,  the  latter  forging  it  into  shape. 

§  85.  Besides  attention  to  a  definite  object  there  is  an 
indefinite  or  expectant  attention,  having  no  particular,  dis- 
tinct object.  Consciousness  is,  as  it  were,  concentrated 
within  itself,  and  thus  intensified  awaits  a  definite  object, 
expected  but  as  yet  undetermined,  on  wliich  it  shall  concen- 
trate. 

A  teacher  says  to  his  pupils :  Attend  to  what  I  am  about 
to  say.  There  is  a  pause,  during  which  their  minds  are 
attentive ;  they  are  listening,  their  attention  is  arrested,  but 
its  object  is  as  yet  undetermined.  Anxiety,  vague  forebod- 
ing, and  anticipation  in  general,  involve  this  state.  Coleridge 
says  :  "  In  attention  we  may  keep  the  mind  passive,  we  sub- 
mit it  to  an  impression,  we  keep  it  steady  in  order  to  receive 
the  stamp."  ^ 

§  86.  An  important  distinction  is  between  voluntary  and 
involuntary  attention ;  the  one  active,  the  other  passive. 

The  latter  occurs  when  some  sudden  or  persistent  presen- 
tation excites  consciousness  intensely,  distracting  it  from 
other  objects  and  concentrating  it  on  this  one,  without  the 
exercise  of  will.  A  startling  noise,  a  flash  of  light,  a  con- 
tinuous and  acute  pain,  powerfully  attract  attention,  as  also 
a  bright  idea,  or  a  striking  thought.  Likewise  a  strong  desire, 
as  hunger,  curiosity,  love,  excites  involuntary  attention.  A 
commanding  effort  of  the  will  may  transfer  attention  promptly 
to  preferred  objects,  but  for  an  instant  at  least  the  distraction 
is  usually  irresistible.^ 

1  Aids  to  Beflection,  vol.  i,  p.  4.  This  is  called  by  Dr.  Carpenter  "ex- 
pectant attention.'"  —  .l/c?t«.  Fhiis.,  ch.  3.  A  knock  at  the  door  excites  it. 
Also  the  military  command,  "Attention  company."     Also  the  gavel. 

2  "  L'esprit  du  plus  grand  homme  du  monde  n'est  pas  si  independent, 
qu'il  ne  soit  sujet  k  etre  trouble  par  le  moindre  tintamarre  qui  se  fait  autour 
de  lui.     II  ne  faut  pas  le  bruit  d'un  canon  pour  empecher  ses  pensfies  ;  il  ne 


COGNITION.  83 

Involuntary  attention  and  distraction  are  correlatives, 
implying  each  other,  the  positive  and  negative  aspects  of  the 
same  state.  In  such  attention  the  mind  is  attracted  by  an 
object ;  this  is  positive.  In  distraction,  the  mind  is  drawn 
away  from  other  objects ;  this  is  negative. 

§  87.  Voluntary  attention  occurs  when  the  ego,  by  an 
inherent,  original,  and  constitutional  power,  chooses  to  con- 
centrate consciousness,  and  does  actually  concentrate  it,  on  a 
chosen  object.  This  is  intentional  attention.^  Its  correlative 
is  abstraction.  These  are  the  same  exercises  viewed  in  dif- 
ferent relations,  the  positive  and  negative  aspects  of  the  same 
act.  In  attention  the  mind  centres  on  an  object ;  this  is  the 
positive  view,  the  giving  of  mind  to  the  thing.  In  abstrac- 
tion the  mind  draws  away  from  other  objects;  this  is  the 
negative  view,  the  withholding  of  mind  from  those  things. 
What  we  call  absence  of  mind  is  abstraction,  the  mind  hav- 
ing withdrawn  from  things  to  which  we  think  it  should  be 
attending.^ 

§  88.  Can  I  attend  to  more  than  one  thing  at  a  time? 
The  question  is  concerning  a  fact  of  consciousness,  and  can 
be  answered  only  by  an  appeal  to  consciousness. 

faut  que  le  bruit  d'une  girouette  ou  d'une  poulie.  Ne  vous  etonnez  pas  s'il 
ne  raisonne  pas  bien  a  present ;  une  mouche  bourdonne  a  ses  oreilles  ;  e'en 
est  assez  pour  le  rendre  incapable  de  bon  conseil.  Si  vous  voulez  qu'il  puisse 
trouver  la  verite,  chassez  cet  animal  qui  tient  sa  raison  en  echec,  et  trouble 
cette  puissante  intelligence  qui  gouverne  les  villes  et  les  royaumes."  — Pascal, 
Pensees^  I,  vi,  12. 

A  rustic  cannot  think  amid  the  bustle  of  a  city  ;  but  J.  S.  Mill  tells  us 
that  he  thought  out  the  greater  part  of  his  System  of  Logic  during  his  daily 
walks  in  the  crowded  and  noisy  streets  of  London,  and  that,  so  complete  was 
his  abstraction,  he  suffered  no  distraction. 

1  As  attention  is  related  to  cognition,  so  is  intention  to  volition.  Inten- 
tion is  volition  concentrated ;  it  is  will  determined  on  an  action.  Both  are 
objective.     Flirting  is  attention  without  intention. 

2  It  is  preoccupation  of  mind.  Inattention,  absolute,  probably  never 
exists,  the  mind  being  always  more  or  less  attentive  to  something. 


84  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Consciousness  of  an  object  should  be  distinguished  from 
attention  to  an  object.  I  am  always  conscious  of  many 
things  at  once,  and  the  effect  of  attention  is  to  bring  an 
object  out  from  obscure  into  clear  consciousness.  Now  can  I 
select  several  of  the  objects,  and  attend  to  each  separately 
and  at  once  ?  I  find  on  trial  that  I  cannot.  I  can  attend  to 
a  group  of  things,  but  not  to  them  severally.  A  group  is 
but  one  object.  I  can  transfer  my  attention  rapidly  from  one 
thing  to  another,  but  succession  is  not  simultaneity.  I  find 
I  can  attend  to  only  one  thing  at  one  time.^ 

If  it  were  otherwise,  then  it  might  become  possible  for 
me  to  pursue  two  distinct  trains  of  thought  simultaneously. 
Who  has  ever  done  this  ?  ^  I  cannot  attend  even  to  two  per- 
sons talking  to  me  on  different  subjects  at  the  same  time.  I 
can  attend  to  either  one  at  pleasure  without  being  much  dis- 
turbed by  the  other;  I  can,  if  versatile,  rapidly  alternate  my 
attention,  and  thus,  perhaps,  catch  the  meaning  of  both ;  but 
if  I  try  to  listen  to  both  strictly  at  once,  I  can  understand 
neither.  Indeed,  if  plural  attention  were  possible,  why  should 
there  be  such  a  thing  as  distraction?  But  we  are  often  so 
distracted  by  a  call  for  double  attention  as  to  be  incapable  of 
any.^ 

1  Hamilton  per  contra^  Meta.,  Lee.  13,  14.  He  offers  a  direct  argument 
which  is  a  bald  petition.  —  See  p.  165.  He  confuses  consciousness  of  many 
objects,  with  attention,  e.g. :  "If  mind  can  attend  to,  or  be  conscious  of, 
only  a  single  object  at  a  time,  how  is  comparison  possible  ?  "  — p.  175.  This 
is  ignoratio  eleitchi.  President  Porter  follows  Hamilton. — Hum.  Intellect., 
§  180.  Yet,  with  approbation,  Hamilton  quotes  Jouffroy  as  saying  :  "  It  is 
established  by  experience  that  we  cannot  give  our  attention  to  two  different 
objects  at  the  same  time."  — p.  227. 

2  Gibbon  says  of  the  emperor  Julian :  "  He  possessed  such  flexibility  of 
thought,  and  such  firmness  of  attention,  that  he  could  employ  his  hand  to 
write,  his  ear  to  listen,  and  his  voice  to  dictate,  and  so  pursue  at  once  three 
several  trains  of  ideas,  without  hesitation  and  without  error."  —  Decline  and 
Fall,  ch.  22.     Hardly  historical. 

**  Plural  attention  is  apparently  supported  by  such  cases  as  Napoleon  I 
dictating  to  a  dozen  secretaries,  and  Paul  Morphy  blindfolded  playing  eight 
games  of  chess  at  once.    But  these  are  explained  by  alternating  attention, 


COGNITION.  85 

It  is  fairly  asked :  How,  then,  is  comparison  (§  80)  possi- 
ble? The  answer  is  easy.  In  order  to  compare,  a  relation 
must  be  discerned  between  two  objects  within  consciousness. 
By  virtue  of  this  relation  the  two  become  one,  for  "the 
knowledge  of  relatives  is  one."  The  more  intimate  the  rela- 
tion, the  more  complete  is  the  fusion  in  consciousness;  but 
even  a  remote  relation  is  sufficient  so  to  unite  them  that  they 
may  become  a  single  object  of  attention.^ 

§  89.  It  is  the  special  function  of  the  will  to  fix  and  hold 
attention.  The  great  significance  of  this  fact  in  human 
nature  becomes  apparent  when  we  observe  that  (the  control 
of  muscular  energy  probably  not  being  an  exception)  the 
will  has  no  other  power.  Voluntary  attention  to  this  or  that 
object  is  the  sole  but  sufficient  means  of  self-control.  I  have 
no  other,  and  I  need  no  other,  means  of  repressing,  arousing, 
directing,  or  combining  my  faculties,  whether  of  cognition, 
feeling,  or  desire. 

The  command  of  one's  faculties  by  the  power  of  attention 
is  more  or  less  perfect  in  proportion  to  the  natural  strength 
of  the  will,  which  varies  in  individuals,  and  to  the  develop- 
ment of  its  energy  under  the  Law  of  Habit,  namely:  Our 
powers  acquire  facility  and  strength  by  exercise.  This 
development  requires  that  hindrances  be  resolutely  met  and 
overcome,  that  distractions  be  persistently  reversed  until  they 

aided  by  powerful  memory.  Great  versatility,  the  ready  and  rapid  transfer 
of  attention,  often  quite  remarkable  in  women,  startles  us  who  are  slow  to 
follow  by  an  appearance  of  plural  attention.  But  how  is  it  that  a  pianist  can 
play  two  discordant  tunes,  one  with  each  hand,  while  singing  a  third  ?  Two 
at  least  are  produced  automatically,  without  attention  (§  37). 

1  Contrariorum  eadem  est  scientia,  said  the  scholastics.  Mere  juxtaposi- 
tion is  sufficient  for  unification,  enabling  us  to  group  as  one  the  most  hetero- 
geneous objects.  The  subject  and  predicate  of  a  proposition  are  thought 
together  only  by  virtue  of  the  relation  constituting  them  one  proposition. 
Aristotle  pronounces  the  act  of  judgment  to  be  single  and  instantaneous. 
"In  general,  we  may  say,  whenever  by  an  act  of  attention  mental  data  are 
unified  into  a  related  whole,  this  is  an  act  of  apperception." —  Baldwin, 
Psychology,  p.  56.    See  §  80,  note. 


86  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

cease.  To  acquire  this  power  of  attention  should  be  the 
primary  purpose  of  all  mental  discipline  ;  for  by  it  alone  can 
one  cultivate  and  realize  his  natural  gifts,  by  it  alone  can 
he  rigorously  train  them,  by  it  alone  can  he  direct  their  exer- 
cise in  the  manner  best  suited  to  expand  and  elevate,  and  by 
it  alone  can  he  restrain  them  from  all  that  would  limit  and 
debase.  Moreover,  the  discovery  of  truth  requires  the  labor 
of  attention.  "  It  is  only  the  labor  of  attention,"  says  Male- 
branche,  "that  has  light  for  its  reward.  The  attention  of 
the  intellect  is  the  natural  prayer  by  which  we  o]:)tain  the 
enlightenment  of  reason.  Since  the  fall,  the  intellect  can 
but  feebly  pray,  the  labor  of  attention  fatigues  and  afflicts  it. 
Indeed,  this  labor  is  at  first  great,  and  the  recompense  scanty ; 
nevertheless,  it  is  necessary;  we  must  invoke  reason  to  be 
enlightened;  there  is  no  other  way  of  obtaining  light  and 
intelligence.  Faith  is  a  pure  grace,  but  the  understanding 
of  truth  is  a  grace  that  must  be  merited  b}^  labor ;  so  that 
without  this  laborious  attention,  which  is  the  force  of  intel- 
lect, we  shall  never  be  enabled  to  comprehend  the  grandeur 
of  religion,  the  sanctity  of  morals,  and  the  littleness  of  all 
that  is  not  God."  ^ 

1  Free  quotation  from  Traite  de  Morale,  I,  v,  4 ;  vi,  1.  See  Hamilton, 
Meta.,  p.  177  sq.  for  excellent  remarks  on  the  value  of  attention,  supported 
by  many  striking  examples.  Cf.  Stewart,  Elements,  ch.  i,  p.  122  sq.,  and 
p.  352.  The  following,  said  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  illustrates  several  of  the 
foregoing  points  :  — 

"Ce  jour-la,  il  fut  remarqu6  par  ses  serviteurs  (c'etaint  a  pen  pres  tous 
ceux  qui  rapprocbaient)  que,  depuis  son  lever  jusqu'a  la  nuit,  il  ne  prit 
aucune  nourriture,  et  tendit  tellement  toute  I'application  de  son  ame  sur  les 
6venements  necessaires  a  conduire,  qu'il  triompha  des  douleurs  de  £  m  corps, 
et  sembla  les  avoir  dgtruites  a  force  de  les  oublier.  C'fitait  cette  puissance 
d'attention  et  cette  prfisence  continuelle  de  I'esprit  qui  le  haussaient  presque 
jusqu'au  g6nie.  II  I'aurait  atteint  s'il  ne  lui  eut  manqufi  I'filgvation  native  de 
I'ame  et  la  sensibility  g6n6reuse  du  coeui-."  — Vigny,  Cinq-Mars,  p.  157. 


PRESENTATION.  87 


CHAPTER  II. 


PRESENTATION. 


§  90.  So  far  of  cognition  in  general.  We  are  now  to  con- 
sider immediate  knowledge  or  presentation  specially. 

Presentation  is  a  mode  of  the  cognitive  consciousness.  It 
is  called  presentation  because  its  object  is  present  to  me 
here  and  now ;  or  because  the  object  is  viewed  as  given  or 
presented  to  consciousness.  The  definition  of  presentation 
is  immediate  knowledge ;  that  is,  knowledge  wherein  no 
medium  lies  between  the  subject  knowing  and  the  thing 
known.     Expressed  positively,  this  is  direct  knowledge. 

Presentative  knowledge  being  immediate  or  direct  is  also 
intuitive  ;  the  subject  and  object  are,  as  it  were,  face  to 
face.^  Now  intuition  is  of  two  kinds,  empirical  and  pure. 
Empirical  intuition  is  either  of  an  external  thing  or  non-ego 
known  in  perception,  or  of  an  internal  subjective  object 
known  in  self-perception.  Pure  intuition  is  of  non-sensu- 
ous objects  intellectually  discerned.  These  special  powers 
are  to  be  discussed  in  their  order. 

§  91.  In  presentation,  consciousness  is  primarily  not  actively 
exerted,  but  passively  affected,  does  not  act,  but  merely  reacts, 
is  merely  receptive  of  the  impression  which  the  object  makes 
upon  it.  A  flash  of  light,  or  a  sudden  noise,  is  a  presenta- 
tive object  making  an  impression  on  me,  and  this  impression, 
of  which  I  am  passively  conscious,  is,  in  the  first  instant  of 
cognition,  a  presentation.^ 

1  Intuition,  from  intueri,  to  behold,  to  look  directly  upon,  Ger.  Auschauung. 
The  term,  says  Duns  Scotus,  was  probably  sus:gested  to  the  earlier  scholas- 
tics by  the  Vulgate  of  1  Cor.  13  :  12,  '■'■facie  ad  faciem.'''' 

2  So,  also,  the  mental  image  I  now  form  of  an  absent  object,  as  the  moon, 


88  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

A  presentation  is  a  psychological  judgment  (§  80)  afBrm- 
ing  existence,  and  affording  certainty  of  the  actual,  of  the 
here  and  now  existent.  That  is,  the  object  is  consciously 
known  as  real,  or,  in  other  words,  its  reality  is  given  as  a 
fact  of  consciousness.^ 

§  92.  The  logical  opposite  of  presentation  is  represen- 
tation. Representative  knowledge  is  mediate  knowledge  or 
cognition,  since  therein  the  conscious  subject  knows  through 
a  medium  some  remote  object  beyond  its  sphere.  In  presen- 
tative  or  immediate  knowledge,  there  are  only  two  factors, 
a  conscious  subject  and  an  object  consciously  known.  In 
representation,  there  are  three  factors,  a  conscious  subject, 
the  medium  or  object  representing,  and  the  remote  object 
represented.  So  far  as  the  immediate  object  is  considered 
in  itself  alone,  the  cognition  is  a  presentation ;  as,  I  hear  a 
sound.  But  when  this  object  is  considered  with  reference  to 
some  other  beyond  consciousness,  the  cognition  is  a  repre- 
sentation; as,  I  hear  a  voice.  If  I  think  of  Alt.  Blanc,  there 
is  an  image  or  idea  of  it  formed  by  my  mind  of  which,  as  a 
present  object,  I  am  conscious ;  this  idea,  as  a  medium,  repre- 
sents the  real  mountain,  but  of  the  mountain  itself  I  am  not 
conscious.  Again,  I  am  angry,  and  am  subjectively  self- 
conscious  of  this  state.  If,  now,  I  contemplate  it  as  a  subject- 
object,  this  knowledge  of  it  is  merely  presentative.  If, 
afterward,  the  anger  having  ceased,  I  remember  and  reflect 

considered  in  itself  alone  without  regard  to  the  remote  object,  is  a  subjective 
presentation. 

1  A  presentation  is  always  numerically  single,  an  individual,  undivided, 
though  not  necessarily  indivisible.  E.g.  a  chain,  or  one  of  its  links  ;  a  sen- 
tence, a  word,  a  letter ;  each  of  these  is  an  individual. 

Tresence  here  and  now,  in  both  space  and  time,  is  requisite  to  a  presenta- 
tion of  external  sense,  as  the  book  before  me  ;  but  time  only  to  a  presenta- 
tion of  internal  sense,  as  my  interest  in  it.  But  thoughts,  as  representative, 
are  emancipated  from  both  bonds.  So  Thomas  Aquinas:  "  While  sense  can 
know  existence  only  under  the  limits  of  space  and  time  (cognoscU  esse  sub 
hie  et  nunc),  the  intellect  apprehends  it  absolutely,  or  with  reference  to  all 
time,"  —  Sum.  Theol.,  i,  75,  6. 


PRE  SEN  TA  TION.  8  9 

upon  it,  there  is  then  an  image  of  it  present  to  my  mind, 
through  which  I  know  the  past  anger.  This  image,  itself  a 
presentation,  represents  the  past  anger,  and  the  total  state 
is  representative.  The  medium  or  object  representing  is 
consciously  or  immediately  known  in  itself,  and  therefore, 
considered  irrespectively  of  what  it  represents,  is  itself  a 
presentative  object.  A  representation,  then,  involves  a  pres- 
entation ;  it  is  a  presentation,  and  something  more. 

§  93.  The  many  objects  usually  present  within  the  cog- 
nitive consciousness,  with  perhaps  a  single  exception,  are 
merely  presentative.  In  the  impression  they  make,  the  great 
majority  are  cognized  more  or  less  obscurely,  only  a  few  are 
clearly  known ;  but  in  so  far  as  each  is  known,  it  is  known 
in  itself,  immediately,  and  without  reference  to  anything 
else  beyond.  When  attention  is  fixed  on  any  one,  it  is 
thereby  drawn,  into  clear  and  distinct  consciousness,  and 
may  become  also  representative.  A  state  of  attention  seems 
requisite  to  a  representation;  and,  since  we  can  attend  to 
but  one  object  at  a  time  (§  88),  it  follows  that,  amid  the 
many  objects  present  in  consciousness,  only  one  can  be 
representative.  Also,  let  it  be  remarked,  if  the  attention 
be  involuntary,  the  total  state  is  primarily  passive;  but  if 
it  be  voluntary,  then,  relatively  to  the  object  of  attention, 
consciousness  is  at  once  active  and  passive;  passive  in 
receiving  the  impression,  active  in  giving  attention  to  it. 

§  94.  Further  illustration  will  perhaps  be  helpful  here. 
A  book  is  before  me,  and  my  hand  rests  upon  it.  I  am 
conscious  of  the  sensuous  impression  which  the  object  makes 
on  me.  If  no  more  than  this,  then  there  is  a  presentation 
only,  a  mere  perception  in  the  strict  meaning  of  that  term, 
an  immediate  cognition.  But  if  my  attention  is  turned  to  it, 
I  recognize  it  as  a  book,  I  refer  it  to  a  class,  and  this  is  a 
representation,  an  apperception,  a  thought. 

Words  spoken  to  an  absent-minded  man  are  heard  as  sounds. 


90  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

but  are  not  understood.  Also  lie  stares  in  the  face  of  his 
friend  without  recognizing  him.  When  the  latter  enforces 
his  attention,  the  recognition  takes  place,  and  the  remembered 
sounds  are  now  perhaps  understood.  But  he  knows  that  the 
impressions  did  not  just  then  begin,  but  his  attention  to  the 
impressions  now  interpreted. 

Suppose  one  born  blind  to  receive  sight,  and  to  have  as 
his  first  visual  percept  red  light.  This  experience  being  quite 
new,  he  cannot  at  once  refer  the  object  to  any  class  of  things 
already  known,  he  cannot  give  it  a  name,  he  cannot  analyze 
it  into  parts  or  qualities,  he  did  not  will  to  produce  it,  he 
cannot  at  will  modify  it,  it  is  given  to  him  and  he  is  passively 
receptive ;  he  must  cognize  it,  but  does  not  recognize  it.  So 
far  it  is  a  presentation  merely.  But  perhaps  when  he  has 
reflected  a  moment  he  recognizes  it  as  a  percept  of  sense. 
This  reference  to  a  class  is  a  thought,  a  representation. 

Ordinarily  the  transition  from  the  presentative  to  the  repre- 
sentative state  is  almost  instantaneous,  quicker  than  lightning. 
For  when  a  flash  of  lightning  unexpectedly  occurs,  I  first 
perceive  an  object  suddenly  presented,  but  before  the  flash 
has  passed  away,  or  before  its  impression  on  ni}^  retina  has 
ceased,  I  recognize  it,  now  as  a  visual  object,  a  flash,  next 
as  out  before  me  in  space,  then  as  a  flash  of  lightning. 

In  the  first  glance  at  a  new  landscape,  I  have  only  an  intu- 
ition of  the  scene,  a  confused  knowledge  of  it  as  one  whole, 
without  a  recognition  or  even  a  clear  distinction  of  parts. 
This  is  mere  presentation.  But  in  an  instant  I  recognize 
trees,  buildings,  streams,  rocks,  hills,  etc.,  and  apprehend 
their  relations,  or  apperceive  them,  in  respect  of  distance, 
magnitude,  etc.,  and  thus  come  to  think  out  the  landscape  as 
a  whole.  This  thought  of  the  whole  is  far  more  complete 
knowledge  than  the  intuition  of  the  whole,  which  was  all 
that  sense  gave  us  at  the  first  momentary  glance.  Tn  this 
example  it  is  very  evident  that  presentation  furnishes  the 
iii;it(Mi;ils  with  wliicli  iiitcllfcl  builds. 


PERCEPTION.  91 


CHAPTER   III. 

PEKCEPTION. 

§  95.  Perception  is  the  immediate  knowledge  of  an  exter- 
nal object.  Being  immediate,  it  has  but  two  factors,  a  sub- 
ject knowing  and  an  object  known.  Since  all  modes  of 
cognition  are  modes  of  objective  consciousness,  and  since 
consciousness  is  always  immediate,  it  follows  that  perception 
is  consciousness  of  an  external  object.  Accordingly,  the  ob- 
ject, though  external,  that  is,  a  thing  distinct  from  mind,  is 
nevertheless  within  the  sphere  of  consciousness.  Being  an 
object  perceived,  it  is  called  a  percept. 

§  96.  The  physical  organs  of  sense  are  closely  associated 
in  our  thoughts  with  the  exercise  of  perception;  they  are 
sometimes  spoken  of  as  physical  media  between  the  subject 
perceiving  and  the  object  perceived ;  and  some  authors  have 
thought  it  right  and  sufficient  to  define  perception  as  knowl- 
edge by  means  of  the  senses.  We  should,  however,  remem- 
ber that  our  science  is  only  a  development  of  the  facts  of 
consciousness,  that  it  originates  in  and  proceeds  from  these, 
and  that  to  consider  aught  else  is  to  abandon  its  proper  held. 
We  are  limited,  then,  to  what  consciousness  gives  in  an  act 
of  perception. 

Now,  of  the  several  outer  organs  of  sense,  the  eye,  the  ear, 
etc.,  consciousness  tells  us  nothing  whatever.  We  are  not  at 
all  conscious  even  of  their  existence,  much  less  of  their  struc- 
ture and  functions.  Observation  and  inference  apprise  us 
that  they  exist,  and  also  that  they  are  physical  conditions  of 
perception  (§  5).     The  investigation  of  their  structure  and 


'UNIVBErf^ 


(^^  ^   »»• 


92  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

functions  belongs  to  anatomy  and  physiology,  and  with  them 
psychology  strictly  has  nothing  to  do. 

Moreover,  we  have  already  found  tliat  the  true  percept 
lies  not  beyond,  but  on  this  side,  so  to  speak,  of  the  outer 
organ  of  sense  (§  21);  so  that  the  organ  cannot,  even  in  the 
freest  view,  be  considered  a  medium,  but  only  as  an  antece- 
dent condition. 

Therefore  we  must  eliminate  these  organs  entirely  from 
our  present  considerations.  I  must  retire  within  and  ask :  Of 
what  am  I  conscious  when  perceiving?  And  this  standpoint 
must  be  rigidly  maintained  if  we  would  enjoy  the  certainties 
of  consciousness. 

§  97.  Within  the  domain  of  consciousness  we  are  still 
liable  to  confusion,  and  perception  projDcr  needs  to  be  sharply 
discriminated  from  certain  things  which  lie  close  to  it ;  first 
from  its  correlative  sensation. 

The  primary  power,  consciousness,  was  sub-divided  into 
cognition  and  feeling  (§  71).  These,  though  always  coex- 
istent, may  be  clearly  distinguished.  A  cognition  is  objec- 
tive, a  feeling  is  wholly  subjective.  Now,  perception  is  a 
special  kind  of  cognition  (§  72),  and  sensation  a  special  kind 
of  feeling  (§  73).  The  consideration  of  the  latter  must  be 
postponed  to  Part  IV.  We  have  here  to  do  with  perception 
only.i 

But  another  distinction  is  needful.     The  definition  dven 

1  "A  conscious  presentation,"  says  Coleridge,  "if  it  refer  exclusively  to 
the  subject  as  a  modification  of  its  own  state  of  being,  is  a  sensation  ;  the 
same,  if  it  refer  to  an  object,  is  a  perception,  which,  when  hnmediate  and 
individual,  is  an  intuition."  —  Church  and  State,  p.  301.  See  also  Hamilton, 
Meta.,  p.  o35,  and  lieid,  note  D*.  The  word  sensation  is  still  used  by  some 
scientists  to  denote  sensitive  apprehension,  both  in  its  subjective  and  in  its 
objective  relations,  like  the  Greek  atfferiffis.  It  was  limited  first  by  the  Carte- 
sians, and  thereafter  in  the  Scottish  school,  to  the  subjective  phase.  We 
should  not  expect  sensation  and  perception  to  be  distinguished  in  common 
language,  for  the  purposes  of  common  life  do  not  require  it;  but  in  psy- 
chology they  should  be  discriminated  as  obverse  and  reverse.  Neglect  of 
this  has  caused,  like  the  shield  in  the  story,  many  a  knightly  tilt. 


PERCEPTION.  93 

is  of  perception  proper,  that  is,  of  immediate  perception. 
There  is  another  quite  complex  mode  of  cognition,  of  which 
perception  proper  is  only  a  part,  but  which  is  always  in  com- 
mon speech  called  perception  simply,  though  involving  much 
more.  Since  it  is  largely  a  representative  state,  we  shall  call 
it  mediate  perception.^ 

What,  for  example,  in  looking  at  a  house,  do  I  truly  and 
really  see  ?  Certain  colored  figures ;  nothing  more.  These, 
and  these  only,  constitute  the  object  presented,  the  object 
immediately,  intuitively  perceived  by  sight.  As  a  result  of 
experience  and  observation,  they  have  become  also  signs  to 
me  by  or  through  which  I  judge  a  house  to  be  there,  and 
judge  also  of  its  details.  The  house  is  doubtless  real,  but  is 
not  the  real  object  of  direct  perception.  The  vision  of  col- 
ored figure  only  is  given  by  sight  (§§  17,  19).  All  else  that 
I  seem  to  see  and  say  that  I  see  is  inferred,  represented,  and 
known  in  mediate  perception.  So  also  of  the  commonly  sup- 
posed objects  of  the  other  senses.  We  must,  therefore,  elim- 
inate from  our  present  considerations  all  mediate,  all  repre- 
sented, matter,  and  limit  them  to  the  immediate,  presented 
percept. 

§  98.  What  remains  in  perception  when  we  disregard  all 
that  is  mere  sensation,  and  all  that  is  mediate  ?  In  the  exer- 
cise of  each  sense,  I  perceive  immediately,  or  am  conscious 
of,  the  positive  existence  of  a  phenomenon.  I  do  not  perceive 
substance,  but  a  quality  of  substance.  I  do  not  perceive  its 
cause,  but  know  there  must  be  a  cause  of  the  phenomenon. 
Altogether,  I  perceive  the  positively  existing  and  caused  qual- 

1  In  the  comparatively  recent  psychology  of  Lotze,  of  Wundt,  and  of  their 
strict  followers,  this  is  called  simply  perception,  and  is  classed  as  one  of  the 
apperceptive  faculties  (§  88,  note).  Leibnitz,  however,  from  whom  comes 
the  term  apperception  (§  80,  note),  calls  the  cognitive  exercise  described 
above,  mediate  perception  (§  69,  note).  The  psychologists  referred  to  lose 
the  important  distinction  between  sensation  and  immediate  perception,  and 
commit  the  error  of  treating  mediate  perception  as  a  special  or  simple 
faculty. 


94  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

ity  of  something  that  is  not  I.  If  I  go  one  step  beyond  the 
presentative  state,  I  know  the  percept  to  be  an  odor,  or  a 
sound,  or  a  color,  as  the  case  may  be.  Nothing  more  than 
these  simple  percepts  is  immediately  given.  I  do  not  perceive 
that  they  are  qualities  of  something  outside  my  own  body ; 
for  the  senses  do  not  singly  or  together  tell  me  that  a  body 
belongs  to  me.  Nor  do  they  primarily  reveal  to  me  the  exten- 
sion or  existence  in  space  of  anytliing  whatever. 

§  99.  An  important  feature  common  to  the  several  modes 
of  perception  is  their  passivity  relatively  to  their  objects. 

In  modes  of  mediate  cognition,  in  remembering,  in  imag- 
ining, in  thinking,  I  am  consciously  active,  either  sjjonta- 
neously  or  voluntarily.  With  conscious  energy,  I  form  and 
contemplate  representative  ideas  of  remote  objects.  Each 
image  thus  presented  by  consciousness  to  consciousness  is 
subject  to  consciousness ;  it  may  be  dismissed  or  modified 
either  in  spontaneous  action  or  at  will.  I  myself  am  the 
author  and  master  of  these  mental  modes,  they  being  the 
products,  or,  rather,  the  exercises  of  my  own  conscious  activ- 
ity determined  directly  by  me. 

In  perception,  the  case  is  different.  When  my  eyes  and 
ears  are  open  I  receive  impressions  of  light  and  sound  with- 
out the  slightest  effort  on  my  part.  I  may  place  myself  in 
an  attitude  favorable  to  the  impression,  and  thus  increase  its 
effect.  I  may  pay  little  or  no  attention  to  it.  I  may  remove 
entirely  out  of  the  way,  as  by  shutting  my  eyes.  But  while 
within  its  reach,  I  have  power  to  receive,  that  is,  passive 
power,  but  no  power  to  reject  the  impression.  Also,  I  am 
powerless  to  change  or  modify  it  in  kind,  but  onl}-  in  degree. 
Its  existence  is  wholly  determined  for  me,  not  at  all  by  me. 

For  example,  while  I  am  absorbed  in  study,  my  clock 
strikes.  Is  it  true  that  I  do  not  hear  it  ?  No  ;  for  if  asked 
the  time  a  few  moments  afterwaid,  I  remember  having  heard 
it.  If  a  speaker's  voice  or  topic  is  disagreeable,  I  may  "  turn 
a  deaf  ear,"  or  give  little  heed  to  it,  and  so  diminish  the 


PERCEPTION.  95 

effect ;  but  I  cannot  at  will  refuse  to  hear,  and  so  be  uncon- 
scious of  the  sound.  Let  us  suppose  I  am  standing  alongside 
a  steam  engine,  studying  its  mechanism,  when  suddenly  the 
whistle  blows.  What  can  I  do?  Can  I  refuse  to  hear?  I 
stop  my  ears  with  my  fingers,  but  that  only  abates  the  horror. 
I  can  run  away,  but  shall  have  to  run  very  far.  I  can  commit 
suicide,  as  perhaps  it  disposes  me  to  do.  Otherwise  I  hear. 
Can  I  continue  my  study  ?  Not  at  all.  The  powerful  over- 
mastering sound  comes  upon  me,  dominating  all  my  faculties, 
and  they  become  helpless  and  useless  under  its  power.  The 
same,  mutatis  mutandis,  is  true  of  each  of  the  six  senses. 

Perception,  then,  relatively  to  its  objects,  is  an  affection,  not 
an  action ;  a  capacity,  not  a  faculty.  In  it,  the  mind  receives 
impressions  without  being  able  to  reject  or  to  modify  them ; 
it  does  not  act,  but  is  acted  on  ;  it  does  not  affect,  but  is 
affected.  In  perception  my  state  is  merely  receptive  ;  I  am 
strictly  passive. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  absolute  passivity.  All  things 
are  at  once  acting  and  reacting,  and  the  reaction,  which  is 
positive,  is  the  passion.  It  is  this  positive  reaction,  this 
passive  resistance,  of  which  I  am  conscious  when  receiving 
a  sensuous  impression,  and  I  am  conscious  that  it  is  reaction, 
a  passion,  and  not  an  action,  that  I  am  the  patient,  and  not 
the  agent.  I  am  therein  the  subject  of  experience  in  the 
strictest  sense,  and  perception  is  pre-eminently  the  power 
wherein  I  am  subjected  to  experiences.^ 

1  The  verb  to  eorperiment  always  implies  activity,  while  to  experience  is 
always  used  with  reference  to  a  passive,  receptive  state.  Both  words  are 
from  the  same  deponent  verb  experiri,  to  try  or  to  be  tried.  We  try  an 
experiment  (Ger.  Versuch),  we  undergo  an  experience  (Ger.  Erfahrung). 
See  §  60,  note.  The  noun  trial  is  eitlier  an  action  or  a  passion.  Passivity 
seems  to  be  a  special  characteristic  of  experience.  Let  us  note  also  that  a 
passive  state  is  not  a  quiescent  one.  The  former  is  positive,  the  latter  merely 
negative. 


96  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

EXTERNAL   REALITY. 

§  100.  The  percept  is  external  to  mind,  is  a  non-ego.  This 
seems  almost  paradoxical.  How  can  mind  be  conscious  of 
that  which  is  beyond  it  ?  The  doctrine  is  not  to  be  rejected 
because  it  is  incomprehensible,  for  the  primary  data  of  con- 
sciousness, being  the  conditions  under  which  all  else  is  com- 
prehended, are  of  course  themselves  incomprehensible.  We 
can  only  know  that  they  are,  not  how  they  are.  To  explain 
how  they  are  would  be  to  refer  them  to  some  higher  princi- 
ple ;  but  there  is  none.  If  a  clearly  correct  analysis  ascer- 
tains that  mind  is  conscious  of  something  distinct  from  itself, 
there  is  an  end  of  the  matter ;  the  fact  is  ultimate,  and  must 
be  accepted.^ 

It  is  admitted  by  all  philosophers  and  skeptics  that  I  am 
conscious  of  the  percept,  for  example,  of  an  odor  or  a  sound. 
This,  therefore,  may  be  taken  for  granted  as  undisputed  and 
indisputable.  It  is  the  common  conviction  of  men  that  the 
percept  is  a  non-ego.  This,  certain  philosophers  pronounce  a 
delusion,  holding  the  percept  to  be  merely  an  objectified  mode 
of  the  ego  itself.  Of  these,  some  theoreticall}^  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  a  non-ego ;  others  admit  its  existence,  maintaining, 
however,  that  this  is  not  immediately,  but  mediately  known. 

1  "Herein,"  says  Herbert  Spencer,  "is  an  all-sufficient  warrant  for  the 
assertion  of  objective  existence.  Mysterious  as  seems  the  consciousness  of 
something;  wliich  is  yet  out  of  [i.e.  distinct  from]  consciousness,  the  inquirer 
finds  that  he  alleges  the  reality  of  this  something  in  virtue  of  the  ultimate 
law,  he  is  obliged  to  think  it.  It  is  impossible  by  reasoning  either  to  verify 
or  to  falsify  this  deliverance  of  consciousness."  —  Pn'nciph's  of  Psychology, 
§  448. 


EXTERNAL   REALITY.  97 

Our  view,  on  the  contrary,  is  that  in  perception  I  am  con- 
scious of  a  non-ego ;  that  is  to  say,  I  immediately  know  that 
the  object  is  a  non-ego.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  immediate 
perception.^ 

§  101.  In  a  previous  section  (§  99)  it  was  shown  that  per- 
ception relatively  to  its  object  is  strictly  a  passive  power, 
contrasting  in  this  respect  with  the  representative  faculties. 
What  now  is  involved  in  this  fact  of  consciousness,  this  com- 
plete and  positive  passivity  of  mind  in  perception?  A  patient 
implies  an  agent,  and  a  consciousness  of  one  correlative  im- 
plies a  consciousness  of  the  other.  My  consciousness  of  the 
agent  or  object  lies  in  my  consciousness  of  its  action  on  me  ; 
and  herein  I  am  conscious  of  its  activity.  Thus  in  percep- 
tion, while  consciously  passive,  I  am  conscious  of  an  activity. 
Now,  as  I  cannot  be  both  active  and  passive  myself,  in  one 
and  the  same  relation,  it  is  evident  that  this  activity  must  be 
the  activity  of  a  non-ego ;  and,  since  I  am  conscious  of  this 
activity  as  a  positive  fact,  I  am  therein  conscious  of,  or  per- 
ceive, a  positive  non-ego.^ 

1  It  is  the  chief  cliaracteristic  of  the  Scottish  school  of  philosophy,  the 
school  of  Eeid  and  Hamilton,  in  opposition  to  idealism,  and  under  various 
forms  of  statement  now  widely  prevalent  in  the  philosophemes  of  Europe 
and  of  this  coiintry.  It  is  held  in  the  present  treatise  with  important  though 
not  essential  modifications,  and  supported  on  original  grounds. 

■^  We  are  well  aware  that  Mill  (Logic,  bk.  iii,  ch.  5,  §  4)  teaches  that  the 
distinction  between  agent  and  patient  is  illusory,  being  merely  verbal.  But 
surely  a  distinction  embedded  in  the  very  structure  of  all  languages  is  founded 
on  something  more  than  mere  expression.  Surely  there  is  some  essential 
difference  between  I  strike,  and  I  am  stricken.  It  is  unquestionably  true,  as 
he  says,  that  "  in  case  of  a  sensation  produced  in  our  organs,  the  laws  of  our 
organization,  and  even  those  of  our  minds,  are  as  directly  operative  in  deter- 
mining the  effect  produced,  as  the  laws  of  the  outward  object."  Still  it 
remains  that  there  is  a  real  distinction  between  these  antecedents,  and  not 
merely  that  one  is  taken  arbitrarily  as  the  theatre  or  "scene  in  which  the 
effect  takes  place."  The  ground  of  the  distinction  seems  to  be  in  the  rela- 
tion to  volition,  which  is  essentially  active.  The  antecedent  which  is  more 
nearly  related  to  will,  or  more  directly  traceable  to  it,  is  the  agent.  Or,  that 
antecedent  in  which  a  will  is  forcibly  dominated  or  unresistingly  subject, 


98  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Another  view.  In  my  conscious  reaction  I  am  conscious 
the  object  as  a  cause  or  force  irresistibly  and  irreversibly 
constraining  me,  oftentimes  compelling  my  attention,  and 
sometimes  completely  dominating  all  my  faculties.  I  cannot 
expel  it  from  my  consciousness,  within  whose  sphere  it  has 
appeared,  exerting  a  mastery,  and  determining  that  peculiar 
state  of  consciousness  we  call  perception.  That  in  being  thus 
forced,  I  am  conscious  of  force,  cannot  be  questioned.  Such 
force  in  one  case  we  call  light,  in  another  sound,  in  another 
odor,  etc.  We  usually  identify  it  with  some  external  force, 
but  contemplate  it  here  only  as  adventitious  energy,  coming 
into  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  and  determining  its  state. ^ 

I  am  conscious  that  my  own  mental  energy,  and  this 
physical  energy,  experienced  in  perception,  are  entirely  inde- 
pendent of  each  other  in  their  origin,  and  wholly  different  in 
their  operation.  1  have  a  positive,  unmistakable  conscious- 
ness that  they  are  often  in  actual  conflict,  the  one  tending  to 
produce  a  peculiar  mental  state,  the  other  striving  to  counter- 
act its  influence ;  though  indeed  the  conflict  is  one-sided ; 
for  I  find  no  mode  of  direct  resistance,  and  no  present  recourse 
save  in  flight. 

This  opposition  and  subjection  mark  consciously  and 
clearly  two  distinct  realities  external  to  each  other.  Neces- 
sarily in  my  consciousness  they  are  apprehended  as  two 
realities ;  I  cannot  possibly  unite  them  in  one  conception. 
The  one  is  consciously  the  property  and  manifestation  of  me 
myself.     The  other  is  consciously  the  property  and  manifes- 

directly  or  remotely,  is  the  patient.  Where  no  relation  to  will  is  discoverable, 
the  distinction  becomes  uncertain,  and  hence  illusory,  but  not  even  then 
groundless. 

Because  of  the  doubt  which  Mill's  view  may  excite  as  to  the  validity  of 
the  argument  in  the  text  above,  founded  on  the  distinction  between  action 
and  passion  in  the  antecedents,  another  form  of  the  argument  is  presented, 
founded  on  the  distinction  between  cause  and  effect,  or  antecedent  and  conse- 
quent. 

1  "La  force  proprement  dite,  c'est  ce  qui  rfigit  les  actes,  sans  r6gler  les 

VOlontfes."  —  COMTE. 


EXTERNAL   BEALITY.  99 

tation  of  something  in  direct  opposition  to  me,  the  manifes- 
tation to  consciousness  of  a  positive  non-ego. 

Surely,  then,  it  is  a  primary  fact  of  consciousness,  original 
and  not  inferred,  certain  and  beyond  the  possibility  of  the 
least  actual  doubt,  that  the  immediate  object  in  perception  is 
consciously  not  I. 

§  102.  There  are  those  who  hold  that  consciousness  may, 
and  probably  does,  deceive  me  in  this  matter.  They  dis- 
tinguish between  the  fact  that  consciousness  testifies  to  the 
existence  of  a  non-ego,  and  the  truth  of  its  testimony.  The 
former,  they  admit,  cannot  be  doubted;  but  the  latter,  they 
affirm,  may  reasonably  be  doubted. 

In  reply  it  is  said  that  if  consciousness  can  possibly  deceive 
me  in  any  one  particular,  then  all  trust  in  it  is  at  an  end ; 
for  I  have  nothing  higher  by  which,  as  a  criterion,  to  test  its 
deliverances,  and  so  a  doubt  of  any  one  is  equally  applicable 
to  all.  Hence  all  philosophy  would  reduce  at  once  to 
extreme  agnosticism,  or  the  impossibility  of  any  certain 
knowledge  whatever.^ 

1  This  is  the  gist  of  Hamilton's  famous  argiiment  for  immediate  percep- 
tion, which  contributed  more  perhaps  than  any  other  one  thing  to  his  gi-eat 
reputation.  See  it  elaborated  in  Meta.,  Lee.  15;  and  in  Discussions,  article 
Phil,  of  Percep.;  but  most  carefiiUy  and  fully  stated  in  Reid,  appendix, 
note  A. 

The  argument  is  open  to  criticism  at  several  points.  E.rj.  it  hinges  in  its 
progi'ess  on  the  statement  that  because  it  has  never  been  shown  that  con- 
sciousness contradicts  itself,  therefore  the  logical  presumption  is  in  favor  of 
its  truthfulness.  Allowed  ;  but  since  there  can  be  no  more  certainty  in  a  con- 
clusion than  is  in  the  premises,  his  conclusion  is  merely  presumptive,  and  not 
demonstrative  as  he  claims  it  to  be. 

Again,  the  argument  is  in  form  a  reductio  ad  ahsurdtim.  But  the  conclu- 
sion does  not  contradict  an  assumed  premise,  nor  is  it  self-contradictory  ; 
there  is  no  logical  absurdity.  Nor  is  there  even  a  philosophical  absurdity,  i.e. 
a  violation  of  the  Law  of  Parcimony  (§  82,  note).  The  conclusion,  if  proved, 
would  violate  our  most  cherished  convictions,  but  should  not  on  that  account 
alone  be  rejected. 

Moreover,  the  subsequent  paragraph  in  the  text  above  shows  that  the 
argument  is  Fallacia  ficjurce  dictionis,  a  form  of  fallacy  on  which  Hamilton 
heaps  contempt.    See  his  Logic,  §  78. 


100  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

A  better  reply  is  as  follows  :  The  distinction  between  the 
fact  that  testimony  is  given,  and  its  truth,  is  inej)t  in  this 
case.  Testimony  implies  two  parties  ;  here  is  but  one.  To 
say  that  literally  I  myself  testify  to  myself  is  absurd.  Con- 
sciousness as  a  witness  is  only  a  misleading  metaphor. 
Dismiss  the  figure  of  speech,  and  the  distinction  vanishes, 
the  testimony  of  consciousness  to  a  non-ego  becomes  simply 
consciousness  of  a  non-ego. 

§  103.  Let  it  be  granted,  then,  that  each  of  the  percepts  is 
a  quality  of  a  non-ego.  Most  of  them,  however,  as  odor, 
savor,  sound,  color,  and  tangibility,  are,  in  immediate  percep- 
tion, only  excited  states  of  the  sensory  or  brain,  which  is, 
therefore,  the  true  non-ego  of  consciousness.  They  have  no 
existence,  as  we  perceive  them,  in  external  bodies.  These 
are  only  the  occult  and  remote  causes  of  the  percepts,  which 
are  consequently  reckoned  as  merely  secondary  qualities  of 
body.  The  primary,  essential,  and  defining  qualities  of  body 
are  extension  and  impenetrability.^  These  are  supposed  to 
exist  in  the  external  body  itself  in  the  same  manner  in 
which  they  are  perceived.  Unless  they  are  immediately 
perceived,  we  cannot  be  sa,id  to  have  immediate  perception 
of  body  as  it  really  exists,  a  consciousness  of  matter  in  its 
essential  features. 

§  104.  Perception  of  extension,  which  is  denied  to  the 
other  senses,  is  attributed  to  sight  and  touch  as  a  secondary 
percept  (§§  19,  24).  Let  us  examine  touch.  Suppose  that 
without  seeing  it,  or  other  premonition,  my  open  palms  are 
lightly  touched  simultaneously.  Tlie  contacts  are  not  to 
differ  in  kind  or  degree.  Now  it  is  unquestionable,  not  only 
that  I  am  conscious  of  these  contacts,  but  that  I  consciously 
distinguish  them  numerically  as  two.  But  this  is  impossible 
unless  I  am  conscious  that  they  are  apart  from  each  other. 

1  The  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  body  are  discussed,  historically 
and  critically,  by  Hamilton  in  Iteid,  note  D.     See  also  Mansel,  Meta.,  p.  97. 


EXTERNAL  REALITY.  101 

The  consciousness  that  they  are  apart  is  consciousness  of 
extension. 

It  is  needless  just  now  to  follow  out  the  details  by  which  I 
pass  from  this  elementary  form  of  the  cognition  to  a  full 
knowledge  of  body  as  occupying  space  in  three  dimensions. 
It  is  sufficient  here  that  by  touch  I  have  an  immediate  knowl- 
edge of  body  in  this  primary  quality,  geometrical  extension.^ 

Now  consider  the  percept  of  the  muscular  sense.  The 
weight  of  my  limbs  necessarily  exerts  various  pressures  on 
the  nerves  that  penetrate  the  muscular  tissue.  There  can  be 
no  pressure  without  its  correlative  resistance.  Of  this  resist- 
ance I  am  passively  conscious.  But  the  consciousness  of 
the  resistance  of  body  to  compression  is  a  consciousness  of 
its  physical  solidity,  or  impenetrability. 

Thus  in  the  exercise  of  touch  and  the  muscular  sense, 
which  usually  co-operate,  is  given  an  immediate  and  proper 
knowledge  of  body  in  its  real  and  essential  characteristics. 

§  105.  The  body  thus  made  known  to  me  is  my  own  sen- 
sitive organism.     This  much  is  given  by  sense.     If  no  more 

1  The  origin  of  the  notion  of  space  is  much  discussed  by  recent  psycholo- 
gists. Is  the  knowledge  of  extension  and  its  determinations,  length,  breadth, 
thickness  or  distance,  position,  form,  etc.,  inborn  or  derived  from  experience? 
Many  theories  have  been  proposed,  classified  by  Helmholtz  as  native  and 
empirical.  Empiricists  hold  that  knowledge  of  extension  comes  through 
experience  from  elements  that  have  no  spatial  form,  either  by  deduction 
from  them  (Herbart),  or  by  a  transforming  power  of  association  (Bam). 
Nativists  maintain  that  knowledge  of  space  cannot  originate  in  data  of  con- 
sciousness which  are  merely  intensive,  and  that  it  is  an  original  datum, 
native,  innate.  Nativism  is  divided  into  nativism  of  product  (Kant)  and 
nativism  of  process  (Lotze,  Wundt).  The  latter  is  well  expressed  thus : 
' '  The  mind  has  a  native  and  original  capacity  of  reacting  upon  certain  phys- 
ical data  in  such  a  way  that  the  objects  of  its  activity  appear  under  the 
form  of  space."  —  Baldwin,  Psychology,  p.  121.  See  also  Ribot,  German 
Psychology  of  To-day,  ch.  4.  The  doctrine  of  the  present  treatise  might  be 
classed  as  nativism  of  process,  differing,  however,  from  the  foregoing,  and 
holding  that  on  an  empirical  occasion,  i.e.  a  sense  presentation,  the  pure 
intellect  has  native  power  to  discern  space,  time,  and  other  non-sensuous 
realities.     Our  views  are  given  below,  in  chs.  6,  7. 


102  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

than  this,  I  could  never  know  even  of  the  existence  of  an 
outer  world  of  things.  But  my  limbs  are  framed  for  loco- 
motion by  voluntary  muscular  energy.  Herein  is  a  new 
experience,  a  new  immediate  cognition.  I  am  conscious  of 
an  effort,  of  a  nisus  or  striving  to  overcome  a  resistance.^  In 
the  muscular  sense-perceptions  that  follow  it,  I  am  conscious 
that  the  resistance  yields,  that  is,  I  am  conscious  of  inertia 
overcome.     This  is  a  consciousness  of  motion.^ 

In  this  experience  I  am  not  merely  a  patient,  but  also  an 
agent.  My  nervous  organism  is  herein  cognized,  not  as 
merely  affecting  me,  but  as  a  means,  subject  to  my  will,  by 
which  I  affect  something  else.  In  this  positive  activity,  in 
this  consciousness  of  being  a  cause,  I  immediately  cognize 
the  effect  on  something  opposed  to  and  distinct  from  my 
organism,  on  some  outer  thing  resisting  the  action.  Thus,  in 
the  exercise  of  locomotive  energ}'-,  I  become  aware  of  the 
existence  and  properties  of  material  tilings  outside  of  my 
organism.^ 

Hence  it  appears  that  the  primary  knowledge  of  extra- 
organic  body,  or  in  general,  of  an  outer  world,  depends,  not 

1  Accordiug  to  "Wundt  there  are  two  distinct  elements  involved  in  volun- 
tary movements  of  the  muscles  :  first,  a  feeling  of  effort,  and  second,  a  feel- 
ing of  resistance.  The  feeling  of  effort  arises  from  the  expenditure  of  nervous 
energy  at  the  centres,  and  is  called  also  feeling  of  innervation.  The  feeling 
of  resistance,  on  the  other  hand,  seems  to  have  its  seat  in  the  muscle  atlected. 
It  is  the  sense  of  opposition  to  muscular  movement,  and  is  connected  with 
sensations  of  pressure.  —  Theorie  der  Sinneswahrnehmung,  p,  376  sq.  See 
Baldwin,  Psychology,  p.  89. 

2  "That  a  thing  is  movable  cannot  be  known  a  priori,  but  only  from  ex- 
perience." —  Kant,  C.  P.  li.,  p.  95,  note. 

3  "When  I  am  conscious,"  says  Hamilton,  "of  the  exertion  of  an  cnor- 
ganic  volition  to  move,  and  am  aware  that  the  muscles  are  obedient  to  my 
will,  but  at  the  same  time  aware  that  my  limb  is  arrested  in  its  motion  by 
some  impediment, — in  this  case  I  cannot  be  conscious  of  myself  as  the 
resisted  relative  without  at  the  same  time  being  conscious,  being  immediately 
percipient,  of  a  not-self  as  the  resisting  correlative.  ...  In  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  thus  resisted  is  involved,  as  a  correlative,  the  consciousness  of 
a  resisting  something  external  to  my  organism."  —  In  Jieid,  note  D*  (pp. 
866,  882). 


EXTERNAL  REALITY.  103 

on  the  relation  in  which  it  stands  to  perception  by  the  senses, 
but  to  volition.  Voluntary  energy  is  the  source  of  this 
knowledge ;  the  muscular  sense,  only  the  secondary  and  pos- 
sibly the  contingent  accompaniment.^ 

§  106.  When  a  limb,  moved  by  volition,  encounters  an 
exterior  obstacle,  I  could  not,  probably,  by  the  combination 
of  volition  with  muscular  sense  alone,  distinguish  between 
the  limb  and  the  obstacle.  But  since  such  encounter  involves 
contact  with  the  skin,  the  sense  of  touch  co-operates  with 
these,  and  enables  me  to  make  the  distinction.  By  the  triple 
combination,  then,  I  discriminate  between  my  own  frame  and 
foreign  bodies.  The  mechanism  of  the  hand  and  arm  is 
peculiarly  fitted  for  the  exercise  of  this  combination.  B}^ 
manipulation  or  handling  I  ascertain  the  shape  and  many 
other  qualities  of  things.  By  this  I  learn  the  shape  of  my 
own  body,  distinguishing  between  it  and  foreign  bodies 
by  virtue  of  the  double  touch  which  it  affords.  Manifestly, 
the  experience  is  quite  different  when  I  clasp  my  hands,  and 
when  I  grasp  the  hand  of  another  person. 

It  appears,  then,  in  general,  that  we  have  an  immediate 
perception,  not  merely  of  a  material  non-ego,  but  further,  of 
extra-organic  body,  and  that  the  existence  of  an  outer  world 
of  things  is  a  fact  of  consciousness. 

§  107.   The  order  in  which  the  senses  and  their  percepts 

1  "Supposing  all  muscular  feeling  abolished  (the  power  of  moving  the 
muscles  remaining,  however,  entire),  I  hold  that  the  consciousness  of  the 
mental  motive  energy,  and  of  the  greater  or  less  degree  of  such  energy  re- 
quisite, in  different  circumstances,  to  accomplish  our  intention,  would  of  itself 
enable  us  always  to  perceive  the  fact,  and  in  some  degree  to  measure  the 
amount,  of  any  resistance  to  our  voluntary  movements ;  howbeit,  the  con- 
comitance of  certain  feelings  with  the  different  states  of  muscular  tension 
renders  this  cognition  not  only  easier,  but,  in  fact,  obtrudes  it  upon  our 
attention."  —  Hamilton,  in  Reid,  note  D  (p.  8G4).  He  does  not,  however, 
attribute  any  special  percept  to  muscular  sense  (§  27)  apart  from  that  given 
in  voluntary  movement.  And  this  is  very  generally  true  of  the  more  recent 
psychologists. 


104  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

have  been  discussed  must  not  be  thought  of  as  the  natural 
order  of  development.  Of  this  nothing  lias  been  said.  The 
elements  of  the  discussion  have  been  obtained  by  logical 
analysis,  and  recombined  in  logical  order.  Any  attempted 
synthesis  in  natural  order  would  be  largely  conjectural.  The 
processes  have  mostly  occurred  at  a  period  too  early  to  be 
remembered,  some  of  them  probably  m  utero}  As  we  know 
not  how  the  bones  do  grow  in  the  womb,  so  we  know  not 
how  the  mind  proceeds  in  its  development.  Only  the 
matured  consciousness  is  capable  of  introspection,  and  it 
finds  its  percepts  already  bound  up  with  acquisitions  into  a 
complexus  that  is  almost  inexplicable,  and  that  completely 
defies  the  most  skilful  analyist  to  tell  how  it  was  woven. 

It  is,  however,  worthy  of  remark  that  the  combination  of 
the  tactile  sense  with  the  muscular  sense  under  the  influence 
of  volition,  seems  to  be  an  important  condition  of  the  deveb 
opment  of  the  cognitive  intelligence.  With  the  other  senses 
only,  we  would  be  forever  shut  up  to  a  knowledge  of  self  in 
oj)position  to  a  few  sensorial  phenomena.  But  the  combina- 
tion named  introduces  us  to  the  universe.  Men  are  some- 
times born  destitute  of  smell,  taste,  hearing,  sight,  but  never, 
perhaps,  of  the  tactile  and  muscular  senses.  Defects  of 
sense,  such  as  actually  occur,  consist  with  a  limited  intelli- 
gence, but  it  is  inconceivable  how  intelligence,  even  of  a  low 
brute  form,  could  arise  in  a  being  deprived  of  tactile  and  - 
muscular  sense,  or,  indeed,  if  all  the  senses  were  perfect  and 
volitional  power  over  the  muscles  were  wanting. 

1  Miillor  (see  §  44)  very  plausibly  speculates  as  follows  :  "  The  uterus 
which  compels  the  child  to  assume  a  determined  position,  and  gives  rise  to 
sensations  in  it,  is  also  the  means  of  exciting  in  the  sensorium  of  the  child 
the  consciousness  of  something  thus  distinct  from  itself,  and  external  to  it. 
The  child  governs  the  movements  of  its  limbs,  and  thus  perceives  that  they 
are  instruments  subject  to  the  use  and  government  of  its  internal  self  ;  while 
the  resistance  which  it  meets  with  around  is  not  subject  to  its  will,  and  there- 
fore gives  it  the  idea  of  an  absolute  exterior.  In  this  way  is  gained  the  idea 
of  an  external  viovld.""  —  Physiology,  p.  1080,  Baly's  tr. 


SELF-PERCEPTION.  105 


CHAPTER   V. 


SELF-PEECEPTION. 


§  108.  The  specific  power  of  mind  next  in  order  after  per- 
ception is  self-perception.  Self-perception  is  the  immediate 
cognition  of  a  subjective  object.  Consciousness  is  sometimes 
defined  as  the  immediate  knowledge  of  our  mental  actions 
and  affections.  If  this  were  correct,  there  would  be  no  dif- 
ference between  consciousness  and  self-perception.  But  con- 
sciousness is  much  more  than  this ;  it  is  general,  it  attends 
all  our  mental  activities,  it  is  their  common  characteristic, 
every  mental  state  is  in  itself  a  conscious  state ;  whereas  self- 
perception  is  only  one  special  mode  or  modification  of  the 
cognitive  consciousness,  and  might  fairly  be  defined  as  the 
consciousness  of  a  subject-object. 

This  power  is  sometimes  called  the  internal  sense,  and  we 
shall  find  it  convenient  to  use  the  term  sense  thus  generi- 
cally,  as  including  both  perception  and  self-perception,  the 
external  and  the  internal  sense,  these  being  our  faculties  of 
cognitive  experience,  or  empirical  intuition. 

§  109.  The  distinction  between  self-perception  and  self- 
consciousness  is  refined,  but  real  and  important.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  we  resolved  consciousness  into  the  subjec- 
tive phase  feeling,  and  the  objective  phase  cognition  (§  71). 
According  to  this  view  the  term  self-consciousness  is  appro- 
priate to  the  subjective  j)hase,  but  not  to  the  faculty  we  are 
considering,  since  this  is  distinctly  objective.  True,  its  object 
is  always  subjective,  always  a  mode  of  self,  but  it  is  a  mode 
of  self  objectified. 

We  may  illustrate  the  distinction  thus :  I  am  beholding  a 


106  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

color,  let  us  say  the  blue  of  tlie  sky.  I  consciously  perceive 
the  color,  or  am  conscious  of  perceiving  the  color,  or  am  con- 
scious of  the  color.  This  is  perception.  It  is  objective,  for 
it  relates  directly  to  an  object.  Now  the  subjective  correla- 
tive of  perception  is  sensation,  which  is  not  a  mode  of  cogni- 
tion, but  of  feeling,  and  in  and  by  virtue  of  the  sensation 
only  am  I  conscious  tliat  it  is  I  who  perceive.  This  is  self- 
consciousness.  I  may,  however,  objectify  a  mental  state.  I 
may  contemplate  it  as  though  it  were  apart,  a  thing  distinct  . 
from  me,  yet  known  to  be  a  mode  of  self.  To  do  so  is  an  act 
of  cognition,  is  a  consciousness  of  an  object,  though  it  is, 
indeed,  a  subjective  object.     This  is  self-perception. 

§  110.  Cognition  is  either  presentative  or  representative. 
Presentative  or  intuitive  cognition  is  either  empirical  or  pure. 
Empirical  intuition  is  distributed  as  perception  and  self-per- 
ception, the  one  relating  to  external,  the  other  to  internal  ex- 
periences (§  76).  Hence  the  latter  might  fairly  be  defined 
as  the  consciousness  of  a  subjective  empirical  intuition.  By 
perception  we  have  intuitive  knowledge  of  matter ;  by  self- 
perception  we  have  intuitive  knowledge  of  mind.  The  ob- 
jects of  perception  are  conditioned  on  and  presented  in  time 
and  space.  The  objects  of  self-perception  are  conditioned  on 
and  presented  in  time  and  self.  Space  is  peculiar  to  the  one, 
self  to  the  other.     Time  is  common. 

§  111.  The  subjective  object  is  really  identical  with  the  ego, 
is  a  mere  modification  of  mind,  but  still  the  mind  distinguishes 
it  as  an  accident,  as  a  mode  from  self.  By  an  original  con- 
stitutional power,  I,  the  subject  of  that  accident,  project,  as  it 
were,  my  own  act  or  state  from  myself,  objectify  it.  view  it  as 
a  phenomenon.  A  difference  in  the  character  of  the  objects 
thus  presented  authorizes  a  distinction  of  two  varieties  of  self- 
perception,  introspection,  and  reflection. 

Let  us  exemplify  the  first.  I  am  angr}^  and  I  am  conscious 
of  it,  or  rather  it  is  a  conscious  state.     But  perhaps  my  cogni- 


SELF-PER  CEPTION.  107 

tive  powers  are  fully  occupied  by  the  object  that  angers  me  ; 
then,  though  there  is  subjective  consciousness  of  anger,  there 
is  no  cognitive  introspection  of  it.  Now  some  one  asks  me : 
Are  you  angry  ?  An  introspective  glance,  a  momentary  objec- 
tification  of  my  state  while  it  still  exists,  an  instant  of  self- 
perception,  and  the  state  is  cognized  and  recognized,  and  I 
answer :  Yes.  So  any  present  mental  state  not  representative, 
as  a  perception,  a  feeling,  a  desire,  a  choice,  an  effort,  may  be 
cognized,  may  become  the  direct  object  of  introspection. 
It  is  by  this  power  of  introspection  that  we  are  hereafter 
to  study  the  phenomena  of  feeling,  desire,  and  volition. 

§  112.  The  other  kind  of  self-perception  is  reflection. 
Reflection  has  already  been  distinguished  from  observation 
as  attention  to  an  internal  object  (§  84).  It  is  distinguished 
from  introspection  b}^  the  specific  character  of  its  object.  The 
direct  object  of  reflection  is  a  mental  image,  such  a  one  as  I 
now  form  of  a  centaur,  of  the  moon,  of  a  strain  of  music,  of 
the  odor  of  violets,  of  my  past  anger,  or  of  any  object  of  past 
experience,  external  or  internal.  This  image  is  itself  a  mere 
mode  of  mind,  for  it  cannot  be  distinguished  from  the  act  of 
cognition.  Since  it  is  subjective,  \&t  at  the  same  time  the 
object  of  cognition,  a  mode  of  self  objectified,  it  is  a  specific 
object  of  self-perception,  the  immediate  object  of  reflection. 

The  image  is  an  object  unlike  the  object  of  introspection. 
The  latter  is  not,  whereas  the  former  is,  representative.  The 
object  of  introspection  is  complete  in  itself,  being  merely  pre- 
sentative ;  whereas  the  object  of  reflection,  the  image  is 
incomplete  in  itself,  being  not  merely  presentative,  but  also 
representative  of  some  other,  of  some  remote,  object;  and 
this  of  necessity,  for  no  act  of  cognition  can  terminate  on 
itself. 

Since  reflection  is,  therefore,  always  an  element  of  repre- 
sentative or  mediate  knowledge,  the  further  consideration  of 
it  is  postponed  to  Part  III. 


108  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PURE   INTUITION. 

§  113.  Knowledge  must  have  an  ultimate  basis.  By  a 
thorough  analysis  of  our  cognitions  we  must  finally  come  to 
primitive  truths  beyond  which  we  cannot  and  need  not  go. 
These  primary  cognitions  are  simple  facts  of  consciousness. 
As  merely  given,  they  are  presentative  ;  as  free  from  any 
intervention,  they  are  immediate ;  as  seen  face  to  face,  they 
are  intuitive. 

As  a  molecule  or  ultimate  particle  of  water,  one  which 
cannot  be  resolved  into  constituent  aqueous  particles,  is  capa- 
ble nevertheless  of  resolution  into  two  impalpable  gaseous 
elements  of  opposite  character,  so  every  fact  of  conscious- 
ness, though  ultimate  as  a  fact,  is  susceptible  of  analysis  into 
at. least  two  constituent  and  essential  elements,  the  one  sen- 
suous, the  other  intellectual.  That  which  is  contributed  to 
the  total  presentation  or  intuition  by  sense  external  or  inter- 
nal, by  perception  or  self-perception,  is  sensuous,  and  being 
the  element  of  experience,  is  called  the  empirical  intuition. 
The  datum  of  intellect,  it  being  not  at  all  sensuous,  is  called, 
negatively,  the  pure  intuition.  The  union  of  the  two  is 
essential  to  the  total  and  single  cognitive  fact,  but  by  logical 
abstraction  either  may  be  contemplated  apart  from  the  other. 

Although  neither  of  these  intuitive  elements  can  be  actu- 
ally realized  in  consciousness  apart  from  tlie  other,  still,  in 
the  logical  analysis  of  the  mental  acts,  they  are  assigned  to 
different  faculties.  The  empirical  intuition  is  exercised  by 
sense  strictly  taken,  either  by  perception  or  by  self-perception. 
The  pure  intuition  is  exercised  by  pure  intellect  or  reason. ^ 

1  This  name  of  the  faculty,  pure  reason,  or  simply  reason,  recalls  the 
Platonic   distinction    lutwcen  the  uituitive  reason,   voOs,  and  the  discursive 


PURE  INTUITION.  109 

The  objects  cognized  by  pure  reason  are  called  pure  or  a  jjriori 
intuitions,  ideas,  notions,  principles,  and  pure  or  necessary 
truths.  Accordingl3%  pure  intuition  may  be  defined  as  the 
immediate  cognition  b}^  pure  reason  of  a  pure  idea  or  neces- 
sary truth.i 

§  114.  Let  ns  consider  some  examples  of  pure  intuition. 
Whatever  I  am  conscious  of  is  always  given  along  with  the 
notion  of  its  existence,  i.e.  it  is,  it  exists  here  and  now. 
Every  act  of  consciousness  is  thus  an  affirmation  of  the  exist- 
ence of  a  thing ;  for  we  are  conscious  only  as  we  apprehend 
a  thing,  and  we  apprehend  it  only  as  we  affirm  it  to  exist ; 
hence  existence  must  be  attributed  to  the  thing  by  the  mind.^ 
Now  existence  itself  is  not  an  object  of  sense,  but  of  pure 
intuition.  Every  object  of  sense,  however,  is  attended  by 
this  idea,  and  each  immediate  cognition,  therefore,  is  made 
up  of  a  presented  sensuous  experience  of  a  thing,  comple- 
mented by  a  pure  intellectual  intuition  of  its  existence. 

When  phenomena  of  mind  or  of  matter,  subjective  or  ob- 
jective, occur  in  succession,  it  is  evident  that  the  cognition 
implies,  in  the  concrete,  the  cognition  of  time.  Now  what  is 
time  ?  It  is  not  an  object  of  perception ;  we  can  neither  see 
it,  nor  hear  it,  nor  handle  it,  nor  is  it  a  mode  of  mind.  It  is 
simple,  not  being  capable  of  resolution,  and  as  a  last  product 

reason,  didvoia,  running  to  and  fro.  Let  us,  then,  not  confuse  reason  with  to 
reason  or  reasoning.  The  one  is  a  faculty,  giving  immediate  insight,  the 
other  is  a  logical  process.  Kant  used  the  name  pure  reason,  die  reine  Ver- 
nunft,  followed  by  Jacobi  and  the  German  thinkers  generally.  As  reason  is 
opposed  to  the  logical  faculty,  so  pure  is  opposed  to  sensuous.  Hamilton 
calls  pure  reason  ' '  the  regulative  faculty,' '  but  doubts  if  it  be  properly  a 
faculty.     Other  names  have  been  used  and  abused. 

1  The  nomenclature  of  the  subject  is  remarkably  varied  and  unsettled. 
See  Hamilton's  famous  note  A,  in  Reid^  §  5,  for  a  historical  and  critical 
examination  of  the  multitude  of  synonyms  used  ;  cf.  Meta.,  p.  514.  For  the 
use  of  a  priori  and  a  posteriori  by  Kant,  as  distinctive  of  pure  and  empirical 
cognitions,  see  §  50,  note. 

2  Existence,  ens,  is  commonly  viewed  by  philosophers  as  the  prinucm  cog- 
nitiim. 


110  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

of  analysis  it  is  ultimate.  It  is  indefinable  and  incomprehen- 
sible, not  being  referable  to  any  more  general  idea.  Yet 
every  human  mind  has  knowledge  of  time,  and  needs  only 
that  the  meaning  of  the  word  be  pointed  out  in  order  to 
make  the  simple  analysis  that  abstracts  the  pure  idea,  and 
clearly  apprehends  it  apart. 

Again,  when  I  am  conscious  of  body,  which  is  a  sensuous 
experience,  there  is  implied  an  apprehension  of  space.  Now 
what  is  space  ?  It  is  not  an  object  of  sense.  Yet  as  an  idea 
original,  simple,  clear,  and  incomprehensible,  it  is  in  posses- 
sion of  every  one. 

When  I  am  conscious  of  a  change  in  phenomena,  either 
subjective  or  objective,  I  apprehend  there  must  be  some  cause 
of  the  change.  Now  in  this  proposition  change  is  a  sensu- 
ous element,  it  is  a  conception  which  can  be  derived  only 
from  experience.  But  what  of  causation?  This  idea  is  not 
sensuous,  but  pure,  not  derived  from  experience,  common 
to  all  minds,  primary,  indefinable,  presentative,  immediate, 
intuitive. 

In  general,  then,  these  pure  elements  of  cognition  are  not 
given  by,  yet  always  attend,  or  are  evoked  by,  sensuous 
experience.  I  have  no  proper  experience  of  them,  they  are 
not  empirical.  Separated  by  abstraction  from  their  empiri- 
cal accompaniments,  they  are  distinguished  as  pure  intuitions, 
or  pure  ideas. 

Other  examples  are  the  idea  of  substance,  of  unity,  of 
identity,  the  law  of  contradiction,  the  idea  of  right,  and  of 
infinity. 

§  115.  The  characteristics  of  these  pure  ideas  and  principles 
are  now  to  be  considered. 

They  are  abstract.  The  pure  or  a  priori,  and  the  empiri- 
cal or  a  posteriori,  elements  are  always  originall}^  conjoined, 
and  indeed,  without  the  union  of  the  two,  no  cognition  is 
possible.  Since  the  pure  elements  actually  occur  only  in 
this  concrete  combination,  it  requires  analysis  by  abstraction 


PUEE  INTUITION.  Ill 

to  effect  their  logical  separation.  Qualities  of  things,  such  as 
tall,  strong,  brave,  honest,  which  cannot  actually  exist  apart 
from  the  things,  have  assigned  to  them  by  abstraction  a  logi- 
cal independence,  as  expressed  by  the  abstract  terms  height, 
strength,  courage,  honesty.  So  the  pure  elements  of  cogni- 
tion, which,  though  not  qualities,  yet  are  actual  only  in  the 
concrete,  have  a  similar  logical  independence  given  them,  as 
expressed  by  the  abstract  terms  time,  place,  substance,  cau- 
sation, etc. 

Complete  cognition  does  not  require  this  analytic  abstrac- 
tion. Actually  an  intuition  consists  of  pure  and  empirical 
elements  in  the  concrete.  Only  by  thinkers  is  the  pure  ele- 
ment clearly  discerned,  and  set  apart  as  an  abstract  idea.  The 
chief  difference  is  that  so  long  as  it  is  in  the  concrete,  the 
pure  element  is  limited,  by  the  connection  in  which  it  stands, 
to  that  individual  case  ;  whereas,  when  taken  abstractly,  then 
its  strict  universality  appears. 

§  116.  They  are  catholic  ;  that  is,  they  exist  in  every  human 
mind,  even  the  most  ignorant,  the  most  immature.  Any  one 
bearing  of  a  murder  will  ask  :  When  ?  Where  ?  Why  ?  Where- 
fore? These  inquiries  imply  the  pure  ideas  of  time,  place, 
efficient  cause,  and  final  cause.  Every  one  regards  murder 
as  a  crime.  This  implies  the  intuitive  distinction  between 
right  and  wrong.^ 

The  catholicity  of  the  pure  elements  of  cognition  is  with- 
out limit.  Manifestly  the  vulgar  mind  is  regulated  by  such 
ideas  and  principles,  and  though  it  does  not  usually  explicate 
them,  still,  did  they  not  exist,  the  simplest  knowledge  would 
be  impossible. 

§  117.  They  are  self-evident.  Many  of  the  pure  intuitions 
may  be  expressed  in  propositions  instead  of  single  terms,  and 
perhaps  some  require  this  form.  U.f^. :  A  whole  equals  the  sum 
of  its  parts;  Every  event  is  caused ;  Benevolence  is  right,  etc. 

1  See  Cousin,  Le  Vrai,  U  Beau,  et  le  Bien,  p.  41. 


112  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

In  this  form  they  are  called  principles,  axioms,  first  truths, 
transcendental  truths,  constitutive  and  regulative  trutlis, 
primary  laws,  etc.  These  are  self-evidently  true  ;  they  have 
in  themselves  original  authority. 

That  a  thing  cannot  both  be  and  not  be,  is  a  proposition 
which  the  human  mind  can  neither  deny  nor  doubt.  Yet  it 
has  no  guarantee,  it  reposes  on  nothing  beyond  itself,  it  is 
merely  self-evident.  That  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are 
together  equal  to  two  right-angles,  is  not  self-evident,  though 
it  may  be  clearly,  positively,  and  with  certainty  demonstrated ; 
for  its  truth  is  not  seen  without  proof,  without  reference  to 
principles.  But  that  two  straight  lines  cannot  enclose  an 
area,  does  not  require,  and  indeed  is  incapable  of  proof ;  it 
cannot  be  deduced  or  inferred,  it  has  the  light  of  truth  in 
itself  and  needs  not  to  borrow.  Such  principles  or  first  truths 
are  the  primary  ultimate  premises  of  all  demonstrated  truth.^ 

§  118.  They  are  certain  ;  that  is,  their  truth  being  uncon- 
ditional or  absolute,  a  doubt  of  it  cannot  exist.  Absolute 
truthfulness  and  self-evidence  are  the  negative  and  positive 
views  of  the  same  thing.  Attending  it  is  the  feeling  of 
entire  and  immovable  certainty.  Says  Aristotle  :  "  It  is  not 
only  necessary  that  we  should  be  endowed  with  an  antece- 
dent knowledge  of  first  principles,  but  also  that  this  knowl- 
edge should  be  of  paramount  certainty.  For,  whatever  com- 
nuuiicates  a  quality  to  other  things,  must  itself  possess  that 
quality  in  a  still  higher  degree,  as  that  on  account  of  which 
we  love  all  objects  that  partake  of  it,  cannot  but  be  itself 
pre-eminently  an  object  of  our  love.     Hence,  if  we  know  and 

1  Self-evidence  is  the  first  of  Bufficr's  essential  qualities  of  primary  truths. 
"The  first  of  these  characters  is  tliat  they  be  so  clear  that  when  one  under- 
takes to  prove  them,  or  to  disprove  them,  he  can  do  it  only  by  propositions 
which  manifestly  are  neither  more  clear,  nor  more  certain."  —  Traite  des  Pre- 
mieres Veritps  (a.d.  1717).  His  was  perhaps  the  first  comprehensive  attempt 
to  found  philosophy  on  primary  truths. 

It  was  a  principle  with  Descartes  that  "  all  things  which  we  may  clearly 
and  distinctly  (chn'ro  H  distinctc)  conceive  are  true."  — 0«  Method,  pt.  iv. 


PURE  INTUITION.  113 

believe  through  first  principles,  we  must  know  and  believe 
these  themselves  in  a  superlative  degree,  for  the  very  reason 
that  we  know  and  believe  all  secondary  truths  through 
them."i 

§  119.  A  primary  fact,  a  fact  of  consciousness  as  a  whole, 
was  likewise  found  to  be  self-evident  and  certain  (§§  67,  69). 
These  characteristics,  therefore,  will  not  serve  to  distinguish 
the  pure  element  from  the  empirical  matter  with  which  it  is 
combined.  A  criterion  is  needful  to  mark  the  distinction, 
and  it  is  found  in  the  necessity  which  specifically  character- 
izes the  objects  of  pure  intuition. 

A  j)ure  idea  or  truth  is  necessary ;  one  involving  empirical 
matter  is  contingent.  That  is  contingent  of  which  I  can  at 
least  conceive  that  it  need  not  be ;  that  is  necessary  of  which 
I  cannot  conceive  that  it  need  not  be,  or,  positively,  of  which 
I  must  conceive,  not  merely  that  it  is,  but  that  it  must  be. 
Facts  of  experience  are  such  as  are  themselves  possible,  and 
whose  opposites  also  are  possible ;  they  are  such  as  are  liable 
to  occur,  yet  may  not ;  they  are  incidental  and  casual  and 
dependent  on  circumstances  or  choice ;  in  a  word,  they  are 
contingent.  But  pure  truth  has  no  negative  alternative  in 
any  case ;  it  is  in  no  manner  or  measure  whatever  reversible 
in  thought;  I  cannot  but  think  it;  the  opposite  is  incon- 
ceivable ;  in  a  word,  it  is  necessary .^ 

For  example  :  In  analj^zing  any  cognition  whatever,  I  find 

1  Anal.  Post.,  i,  2,  §  16. 

2  Necessity  as  opposed  to  contingency  is  of  two  kinds.  The  certainty  that 
attends  a  present  fact  of  consciousness  (§  69)  comes  of  the  necessity  I  am 
under  of  cognizing  it  as  actually  existing.  Still  this  actuality  of  existence  is 
merely  accidental.  When  it  is  not  present,  but  is  contemplated  through  a 
representative  idea,  this  necessity  disappears ;  there  is  no  necessity  that  I 
should  think  it  to  be,  or  that  it  should  be  ;  it  may  or  may  not  be,  it  is  wholly 
contingent.  But  in  case  of  a  datum  of  pure  intuition,  I  am  necessitated  to 
think  not  merely  that  it  is,  but  that  it  necessarily  js.  When  it  is  not  present, 
but  represented  through  a  pure  idea,  this  necessity  remains.  It  is  this  sort 
of  double  necessity  that  differentiates  the  object  of  pure  intuition.  Hence  we 
call  it  specifically  a  pure  and  necessary  idea. 


114  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEUaE. 

always  this  fact  of  consciousness,  self-existence,  I  am.  Now 
in  this  duad  the  element  self  is  contingent.  While  in  fact  I 
do  exist,  my  existence  is  not  at  all  necessary.  I  am  a  mere 
accident  in  the  universe,  my  presence  therein  is  not  essential, 
and  my  annihilation  is  quite  as  conceivable  as  my  creation. 
But  the  other  term  of  the  duad,  the  idea  existence,  is  not  at 
all  contingent,  it  is  necessary.  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  non- 
existent; whatever  I  conceive  is  necessarily  conceived  as 
existing.  So  the  primary  datum  of  consciousness,  I  am,  con- 
sists of  two  elements,  one  empirical,  one  jDure. 

Another  example  :  That  body  is  heavy  is  a  judgment  a  pos- 
teriori, a  synthesis  from  experience.  Now  though  my  expe- 
rience of  weight  in  connection  with  body  has  been  invariable, 
without  ever  an  exception,  yet  the  judgment  is  contingent,  it 
may  or  may  not  be.  I  can  easily  conceive  of  a  body  having 
no  weight.  Indeed,  until  recently,  a  class  of  imponderables 
was  recognized  by  physicists.  But  that  bod}^  occupies  space 
is  not  given  by  experience,  is  not  an  empirical  fact  or  judg- 
ment, but  an  analytic  judgment  a  priori,  a  pure  intuition. 
For  while  we  have  experience  of  body  as  heavy,  we  have  no 
experience  by  any  sense  that  it  occupies  space,  since  no  sense 
is  percipient  of  space.  Yet  this  judgment  is  self-evidently 
true ;  it  is  not  at  all  contingent,  it  is  necessary.  We  cannot 
conceive  of  body  not  occupying  space ;  that  it  does  occupy 
space  must  of  necessity  be  true.^ 

§  120.  Furthermore,  "an  empirical  judgment  never  ex- 
hibits strict  and  absolute,  but  only  assumed  and  comparative, 

1  See  Kant's  celebrated  analysis  of  judgments,  C.  P.  R.,  Int.,  §  4.  The 
distinction  between  necessary  and  contingent  truth  can  be  traced  to  Aris- 
totle. Descartes  uses  necessity  as  a  criterion  in  many  places.  E.cf.  :  "  This 
proposition,  I  am,  I  exist,  is  7ierp,sfinrn)j  true."  Again  :  "T  now  admit  noth- 
ing that  is  not  necessarily  true."  —  Meditations,  ii.  Yet  again :  "Though 
certain  general  objects,  as  bodies,  be  imaginary,  we  are  nevertheless  abso- 
lutely necessitated  to  admit  the  reality  of, at  least  some  other  objects  still 
more  simple  and  universal  than  these." — Id.,  i.  It  was,  however,  first  ex- 
plicitly enounced  as  a  criterion  by  Leibnitz,  and  used  systematically  and 
efficiently  by  Kant  in  his  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft. 


PURE  lyTUITION.  115 

universality.  Therefore,  the  most  we  can  say  is,  so  far  as  we 
have  hitherto  observed,  there  is  no  exception  to  tliis  or  that 
rule.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  a  judgment  carries  with  it  strict 
and  absolute  universality,  that  is,  admits  of  no  possible  excep- 
tions, it  is  not  derived  from  experience,  but  is  valid  abso- 
lutely a  priori.  Necessity  and  strict  universality,  therefore, 
are  infallible  tests  for  distinguishing  pure  from  empirical 
knowledge,  and  are  inseparably  connected  with  each  other. 
But  as  in  the  use  of  these  criteria,  the  unlimited  universality 
which  we  attach  to  a  judgment  is  often  a  more  convincing 
proof  than  its  necessity,  it  may  be  advisable  to  use  the  criteria 
separately,  each  being  by  itself  infallible."  ^ 

It  is  manifest  that  necessity  and  strict  universality  are  the 
same  thing  in  different  aspects  ;  for  when  a  truth  is  necessary, 
it  is  eo  ipso  universal,  and  that  a  truth  is  strictly  universal  is 
an  unerring  index  that  it  is  necessary.  Hence  neither  is  to 
be  considered  as  secondary,  or  as  subsidiary  to,  or  as  derived 
from  the  other.  Both  are  named,  because  sometimes  the  one 
is  more  easily  applied  as  a  test,  sometimes  the  other. 

§  121.  In  connection  with  the  characteristic  of  strict  uni- 
versality, it  should  be  particularly  observed  that  general 
truth  is  of  three  distinct  kinds  :  — 

First,  a  mere  logical  generality  is  attained  when  we  think, 
within  the  limits  of  experience,  the  similar  to  be  the  same. 
Thus :  All  the  members  of  my  class  are  studious :  Every  day 
I  find  a  duty;  Each  of  the  States  has  two  senators.  This 
generalization  is  an  artifice  or  fiction  of  intellect,  a  fictitious 
means  of  giving  order  and  compactness  to  knowledge,  and 
thus  bringing  it  within  grasp. 

Second,  by  the  hazard  of  induction,  truth  is  extended 
beyond  the  limits  of  actual  experience,  and  declared  general 
or  universal.  Thus :  Every  particle  of  matter  attracts  every 
other  particle ;    Day  always  succeeds  night ;  No  one  is  per- 

1  From  Critique  of  Pure  Reason.,  Int.,  §  1. 


116  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

fectly  content.  This,  however,  is  only  an  empirical,  inductive, 
and  precarious  universality.  Exceptions  may  actually,  or  at 
least  conceivably,  occur. 

Third,  pure  truth  also  is  said  to  be  general,  but  this  gener- 
ality is  attained  neither  by  generalization,  nor  by  induction. 
When  we  have  abstracted  the  pure  element,  we  immediately 
cognize  it  as  absolutely  universal,  true  always  and  everywhere. 
Every  rule  derived  from  experience  has  actual,  possible,  or  at 
least  conceivable  exceptions  ;  a  rule  given  by  pure  reason  has 
no  exception,  it  is  without  the  conceivable  possibility  of  an 
exception,  past,  present,  or  future,  in  all  the  univei'se  of  things. 
Such  truth  transcends  the  limits  of  possible  experience,  and 
has  unlimited,  universal  validity.  Thus :  Space  is  infinite ; 
An  attribute  and  a  being  exist  only  as  they  coexist ;  Contra- 
dictory attributes  cannot  coexist ;  I  ought  to  be  truthful. 
As  has  already  been  said,  most  persons  do  not  abstract  and 
formulate  these  primitive  a  priori  cognitions.  Nevertheless, 
their  strict  universality  is  practically,  though  obscurely,  appre- 
hended, which  is  evident  from  the  unhesitating  use  of  them 
in  each  particular  case ;  and  likewise  their  necessity,  as  is 
shown  by  the  confident  assertion  that  such  and  such  a  thing 
must  be  so,  it  would  be  nonsense  to  speak  otherwise.  The 
thinker  disengages  them,  and  sets  the  abstract  and  universal 
forms  clear  in  consciousness.  This,  however,  is  not  to  consti- 
tute, nor  to  derive,  nor  to  generalize  them ;  but  only  to 
discern  them.  They  leap  ready  armed  from  the  womb  of 
reason,  like  Pallas  from  the  head  of  Zeus. 

§  122.  The  catholicity  just  referred  to  must  also  be  distin- 
guislied  from  universality.  The  one  means  that  the  pure 
intuitions  are,  potentially  at  least,  in  every  human  mind ;  the 
other,  that  they  are  universally  true,  always  and  everywhere, 
even  should  all  mind  cease  to  be.  That  pure  truths  are  com- 
mon to  all  mankind  is  simply  a  consequence  of  their  own 
inherent  necessity  and  universality. 

On  the  other  hand,  because  a  judgment  is  common,  it  does 


PURE  INTUITION.  117 

not  follow  that  tlierefere  it  is  a  pure  truth.  All  men  once 
held  that  the  sun  revolves  around  the  earth ;  and  that  a  body 
cannot  act  where  it  is  not.  This  last,  indeed,  has  much  the 
appearance  of  an  intuitive,  axiomatic,  necessary  truth,  but 
falsely  assumes  that  body  acts  only  by  contact.^  That  all 
men  judge  so  and  so,  is  not  a  guarantee  of  truth  of  any  sort ; 
but  when  a  truth  is  intuitive,  this  is  a  sure  guarantee  that  all 
men  think  accordingly. 

§  123.  Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  classify  pure 
intuitions,  but  none  has  been  generally  approved.  It  is  con- 
ceded that  Kant's  system  of  categories  is  a  failure.  These 
ideas  are  so  subtle,  so  mutually  interwoven,  so  evasive  aud 
pervasive,  that  they  seem  to  defy  distinct  enumeration  and 
articulate  arrangement.  We  can  hardly  divest  them  com- 
pletely of  empirical  matter,  and  in  cases  where  thought 
succeeds  in  this,  language  fails  to  express  them  in  pure 
nakedness.  They  appear  to  be  numerous ;  but  could  we  fix 
the  naked  truths,  each  by  a  suitable  sign,  it  might  greatly 
reduce  their  apparent  number,  and  enable  us  to  classify  them. 
We  shall  not  attempt  a  classification,  nor  discuss  them  in 
detail.  Indeed,  not  much  can  be  said  about  them.  Their 
light,  says  McCosh,  is  like  that  of  the  sun,  which  darkens  as 
we  gaze  on  it.  They  behave  like  Macbeth 's  witches.  "  When 
I  burned  in  desire  to  question  them  further,  they  made  them- 
selves —  air,  into  which  they  vanished." 

1  This  reminds  us  that  Newton,  it  is  said,  was  sorely  perplexed  by  the 
notion  of  gravity,  being  unwilling  to  admit  the  possibility  of  action  at  a 
distance,  which  Faraday  also  rejected  as  an  impossible  conception.  Should 
not  these  eminent  physicists  have  admitted  it  as  a  fact  revealed  by  nature, 
as  ultimate  and  therefore  incomprehensible  ? 


118  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


ORIGIN   OF   PURE   TRUTH. 


§  124.  A  close  consideration  of  the  origin  of  pure  ideas 
and  principles  reveals  many  difficulties.  Psychologists  and 
metaphysicians  entertain  various  opinions  respecting  it,  and 
just  here  engage  in  such  fierce  and  endless  controversies,  that 
the  ground  we  now  venture  upon  is  fairly  termed  campus 
philosojyhorum.  The  questions  in  debate  may  be  stated  thus : 
Does  the  knowledge  of  pure  truth  originate  within  or  with- 
out ?  is  it  innate  or  adventitious  ?  Is  the  object  ideal,  or  has 
the  pure  idea  a  corresponding  reality  in  nature  ?  If  real,  is 
that  reality  itself  intuitively  known,  or  is  it  known  only 
through  a  representative  idea  ?  These  are  difficult  questions. 
The  first  alone  offers  room  for  wide  divergence.  The  history 
of  opinions,  touching  the  acceptance  or  rejection  of  such 
notions  as  native,  is,  in  a  manner,  the  history  of  philosophy ; 
for  as  the  one  alternative  or  the  other  is  adopted  in  this 
question,  the  character  of  a  system  is  determined.  The  cliief 
parties  to  this  primary  form  of  the  controvers}^  are  empiricists 
who  deny,  and  intuitionists  who  affirm,  the  innate  or  sub- 
jective origin  and  character  of  the  pure  intuitions. 

§  125.  Modern  empiricism  has  Locke  for  its  founder.  He 
maintained  an  old  aphorism,  traceable  to  the  Stoics,  that  there 
is  nothing  in  intellect  that  was  not  previously  in  sense.  "/>i 
intelleetu  nihil  est,  quod  non  prius  fuerit  in  sensu.^'  To  sup- 
port their  doctrine,  the  Stoics  had  seized  upon  a  passage  in 
Aristotle,  in  which  intellect  prior  to  experience  is  compared 
to  a  tablet  on  which   nothing  has  been  actually  written,  a 


ORIGIN    OF  PURE   TRUTH.  119 

"  tabula  rasa"  ^     This  also  Locke  adopted,  and  the  two  have 
since  been  the  favorite  text  and  formuhx  of  his  followers. 

His  doctrine  he  states  as  follows :  "  Whence  hath  mind  all 
the  materials  of  reason  and  knowledge?  To  this  I  answer 
in  one  word,  from  experience ;  in  that  all  our  knowledge  is 
founded,  and  from  that  ultimately  derives  itself.  Our  obser- 
vation employed  either  about  external  sensible  objects,  or 
about  the  internal  operations  of  our  minds,  perceived  and 
reflected  on  by  ourselves,  is  that  which  supplies  our  under- 
standing with  all  the  materials  of  thinking.  These  are  the 
fountains  of  knowledge  from  whence  all  the  ideas  we  have, 
or  can  naturally  have,  do  spring,  that  is,  sensation  and 
reflection."  ^ 

Empiricism  has  found  many  able  advocates,  but  none 
stronger  than  J.  S.  INIilL  His  avowal  of  it  is  very  distinct. 
"  It  remains  to  inquire,"  says  he,  "  what  is  the  ground  of 
our  belief  in  axioms,  what  is  the  evidence  on  which  they 
rest  ?  I  answer,  they  are  experimental  truths,  generalizations 
from  observation.  The  proposition  :  Two  straight  lines  can- 
not enclose  a  space,  is  an  induction  from  the  evidence  of  our 
senses."  3  He  finds  necessity  or  inconceivability  to  consist 
either  in  invincible  association,  or  in  that  a  logical  contra- 
diction is  meaningless. 

1  De  Anima,  iii,  4,  §  14.  The  context  seems  inconsistent  with  the  infer- 
ence that  Aristotle  favored  empiricism. 

2  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  bk.  ii,  ch.  1.  Condillac  and  others 
of  the  French  philosophers  rejected  reflection  as  a  distinct  source  of  knowl- 
edge, and  their  doctrine,  to  distinguish  it  from  that  of  Locke,  is  called  sensa- 
tionalism. What  Locke  means  by  reflection  is  obscure,  and  has  been  the 
subject  of  much  debate. 

3  Logic,  bk.  ii,  ch.  5,  §  4.  See  also  his  Ex.  of  Hamilton's  Phil.,  ch.  6. 
"  Two  and  two  may  be  five  in  some  other  world,"  he  says.  Herbert  Spencer 
sharply  criticises  Mill's  views  in  Principles  of  Psychology,  §  426  sq.  He 
maintains  the  "universal  postulate"  that  "cognitions  of  which  the  predi- 
cates invariably  exist  along  with  their  subjects  express  a  necessary  relation 
in  consciousness,  and  have  the  highest  possible  certainty."  To  his  criticism 
Mill  replies  in  the  eighth  edition  of  his  Logic.  See  addendum  to  bk.  ii, 
ch.  7,  §  4  sq. 


120  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Thus  the  empirical  philosophy  denies  all  a  priori  cognition 
of  truth,  all  purely  intuitive  ideas  and  princij)les.  It  denies 
that  the  intellect  is  itself  a  source  of  knowledge,  and  that 
there  is  any  essential  distinction  between  contingent  and 
necessary  truth.  It  holds  that  sensuous  experience  is  the 
origin  and  sole  basis  of  all  knowledge,  and  that  necessity 
arises  only  because  of  an  experience  that  is  invariable,  and 
hence  invincible  in  thought.  Logically  and  historically,  em- 
piricism results  in  materialism  ;  its  more  immediate  offspring 
is  sensationalism  or  sensualism.^ 

§  126.  A  reply  to  empiricism,  denying  the  sufficiency  of 
experience  and  insisting  that  the  distinction  between  con- 
tingent and  necessary  truth  is  essential,  is  as  follows  :  Expe- 
rience, even  invariable  experience,,  however  large,  cannot 
establish  necessit}^  That  the  sun  moves  westward  is  our 
invariable  experience,  yet  it  is  not  conceived  as  necessary, 
but  as  contingent,  for  however  improbable  an  exception,  one 
is  easily  conceivable.^  On  the  other  hand,  experience  is  not 
requisite  to  necessity.  That  two  intersecting  circles  have 
two  and  only  two  points  in  common,  is  a  truth  which  does 
not  require  any  specific  experience  in  order  to  command 
assent,  and  which  is  conceived  not  at  all  as  contingent,  but 
as  necessary.  It  must  be  so  in  ever}^  case,  ahvays  and  every- 
where. An  exception  is  absolutely  inconceivable,  and  would 
be  more  than  a  miracle.^  There  is,  therefore,  an  essential 
difference  in  such  conceptions,  indicating  a  different  origin. 

Let  us  argue  the  distinction  more  articulately.  The 
proposition.  Every  change  is  caused,  is,  saj^s  the  empiricist, 
an  induction  from  experience.  But  it  cannot  be  so  for  these 
reasons : — 

'  Tornied  contemptuously  by  Fichte,  "the  dirt  philosophy." 

2  E.g.  the  dial  of  Ahaz.  — 2  Kings  20: 11. 

8  This  strong  expression  is  used  advisedly.  Infinite  power  may  cause  the 
sun  to  retrograde,  or  may  quicken  the  dead,  but  cannot  make  a  thing  to  be 
and  not  be,  cannot  reconcile  contradictories.    The  infinite  is  limited. 


ORIGIN   OF  PURE   TRUTH.  121 

First:  An  empirical  judgment  is  not  necessary.  Experi- 
ence tells  us  only  what  actually  is,  not  what  must  be.  The 
most  ample  evidence  from  observation  that  each  change  does 
actually  have  a  cause  would  never  prove  that  change  must 
have  a  cause.  Induction  from  experience  reveals  the  estab- 
lished laws  of  nature,  but  can  never  discover  what  connec- 
tions of  things  are  necessary. 

But  this  judgment  is  necessary.  It  is  not  that  changes 
commonly  have  a  cause,  or  even  that  they  always  in  fact  do 
have  a  cause,  but  that  they  must  have  a  cause,  and  cannot 
possibly  occur  without  a  cause. 

Therefore,  this  judgment  is  not  empirical.  ^ 

Second :  An  empirical  judgment  is  not  strictly  universal. 
It  can  have  only  a  degree  of  probability  proportioned  to  our 
experience,  and  is  always  so  understood  as  to  leave  room  for 
exceptions,  if  future  experience  shall  discover  any.  The  law 
of  gravitation,  that  every  particle  of  matter  in  the  universe 
attracts  every  other  particle,  has  as  full  proof  from  experi- 
ence and  induction  as  any  empirical  truth  can  be  supposed  to 
have,  yet  physicists  have  supposed  the  existence  of  imponder- 
able bodies.  Such  universality,  then,  is  not  strict,  but  haz- 
ardous, precarious,  probable  perhaps  in  a  very  high  degree, 
but  liable  to  exceptions  that  are  at  least  conceivably  pos- 
sible. 

But  this  judgment  is  strictly  universal.  Neither  philoso- 
phers nor  the  vulgar  have  ever  considered  the  principle  as 
one  admitting  limitation  or  the  possibility  of  exception. 
They  consider  that  it  must  always  have  been  true,  must  now 
be  true,  must  always  hereafter  be  true,  in  every  case  through- 
out the  universe. 

Therefore,  this  judgment  is  not  empirical. 

Third:  An  induction  must  have  sufficient  grounds  in 
experience.  Unless  the  principle  of  causation  now  before  us 
be  itself  involved  in  the  proof,  it  requires  a  very  thorough 
experience  of  very  many  cases  to  justify  an  induction  of  a 
general  truth,  and  this  is  the  most  hazardous  form  of  indue- 


122  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

tion.  But  it  is  obvious  that  the  principle  cannot  be  used  in 
proof  of  itself.  Hence  if  it  be  an  induction,  it  can  be  so  only 
through  much  experience  of  it. 

But  this  judgment  has  not  sufficient  grounds  in  experience. 
The  causes  of  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  few  changes  in 
nature  that  fall  within  our  observation  are  wholly  unknown, 
and  therefore  our  experience  does  not  inform  us  whether 
they  have  causes  or  not.  Indeed,  causation  is  not  an  object 
of  external  sense.  The  only  actual  experience  we  have  of  it 
is  in  the  consciousness  of  an  energy  in  ordering  our  thoughts 
and  actions.  Surely  this  is  insufficient  ground  for  the  gen- 
eral conclusion  that  every  change  in  the  universe  that  has 
been  or  shall  be  must  have  a  cause. 

Therefore,  this  judgment  is  not  inductive.^ 

§  127.  The  opposed  intuitional  philosophy,  in  its  modern 
phase,  originated  with  Descartes.  "  Of  ideas,"  says  he, 
"some  appear  to  me  to  be  innate,  others  adventitious,  and 
others  to  be  made  by  myself."  ^  Leibnitz  expounded  and 
defended  it  more  fully.  He  controverted  Locke's  Essay  in 
a  work  bearing  a  like  title,^  and  subsequently  *  made  an  addi- 
tion to  the  empirical  text,  thus:  "iw  intellectu  nihil  est,  quod 
non  prius  fuerit  in  sensu,  nisi  intellectus  ipse  ";  which  clever 
retort,  more  clever  perhaps  than  clear,  has  become  famous. 

1  The  logic  of  these  statements  is  unquestionably  good,  and  cannot  be 
refused,  but  an  empiricist  would  deny  the  premises.  E.g.  Mill,  in  his  oppo- 
sition to  metaphysical  conceptions,  as  a  disciple  of  the  positivist  Comte, 
denies  any  experience  of  efficiency  in  causation,  and  reduces  cause  to  "  un- 
conditional invariable  antecedent."  —  Logic,  bk.  ii,  ch.  5,  §§  2,  6.  His 
denial  of  all  intuitive  knowledge  leads  him  to  maintain  that  while  the  princi- 
ple of  causation  is  the  ground  of  induction,  induction  is  the  ground  of  the 
principle  of  causation.  Empiricism  revolves  in  this  circle,  and  Mill  labors 
to  justify  it  with  all  his  great  acumen.  —  Id.,  bk.  ii,  ch.  4,  §  3  ;  and  ch.  21. 
Within  our  limits  it  is  impossible  to  discuss  empiricism  adequate^.  We  can 
only  introduce  the  reader  to  the  question. 

2  Meditations,  iii. 

^  Nouvcaux  E.t.taift  .'<ur  PEntendcmrnt  Ilnmain. 
*  In  a  letter  to  Wn  vVimi,  a.d.  1710. 


ORIGIN   OF  PURE   TRUTH.  123 

He  means  to  say  that  the  intellect  itself  is  a  source  of  knowl- 
edge, in  accordance  with  the  much  lauded  brocard :  "  Cogni- 
tio  nostra  omnis  a  mente  primam  originem,  a  sensibus  exordium 
pri7num,  Jiahetr  ^ 

This  doctrine  denies  the  tabula  rasa  of  Locke.  "  We  have 
ideas,"  says  Leibnitz, '' that  are  native  to  the  mind  (mentis 
insitls},  that  arise  from  the  profundities  of  the  intellect,^ 
though  they  do  not  come  into  actual  being  until  sense  pre-l 
sents  an  occasion  for  their  appearance.  The  truths  of  pure 
mathematics,  for  instance,  have  principles  the  proof  of  which 
does  not  depend  on  examples,  and  consequently  not  on  the 
evidence  of  sense  ;  howbeit  that  without  the  senses  we  should 
never  have  found  occasion  to  call  them  into  consciousness." 
So  also  of  logic,  and  metaphysics,  and  ethics.  In  speak- 
ing of  the  power  by  which  we  know  such  truths,  he  says : 
"  It  is  not  a  naked  faculty,  which  consists  in  the  mere  possi- 
bility of  understanding  them ;  it  is  a  disposition,  an  aptitude, 
a  preformation,  which  determines  our  mind  to  elicit  them, 
and  which  causes  that  they  be  elicited."  ^ 

§  128.  In  the  system  of  Kant  the  pure  intuitions  are  dis- 
tinguished as  "  forms  of  cognition."  The  form  is  that  which 
the  mind  itself  contributes  as  the  condition  of  knowing,  and 
which  it  imposes  on  the  matter  of  its  knowledge.  They  are, 
then,  wholly  subjective,  having  nothing  objective  correspond- 

'  1  Patricius  ;  see  Hamilton,  Meta.,  pp.  285,  515. 

2  Nouv.  Ess.,  I,  i,  §  11.  In  illustration  he  says  :  "  Let  us  make  use  of  the 
simile  of  a  block  of  marble  which  has  veins,  rather  than  of  one  wholly  uni- 
form, or  of  blank  tablets  ;  for  if  the  mind  resembled  these  blank  tablets, 
truths  would  be  in  us  as  the  figure  of  Hercules  is  in  a  piece  of  marble  when 
the  marble  is  altogether  indifferent  to  the  reception  of  this  figure,  or  of  any 
other.  But  if  we  suppose  that  there  are  veins  in  the  stone  which  would  mark 
out  the  figure  of  Hercules  by  preference  to  other  figures,  the  stone  would  be 
more  determined  thereunto,  and  Hercules  would  exist  there  innately,  in  a 
certain  sort ;  although  it  would  require  labor  to  discover  the  veins,  and  to 
clear  them  by  polishing,  and  the  removal  of  all  that  prevents  their  manifes- 
tation. It  is  thus  that  ideas  and  truths  are  innate  in  us,  like  our  inclina- 
tions, dispositions,  natural  habitudes  or  virtualities,  and  not  as  actions." 


124  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

ing  to  them.  He  says  :  "  That  which  in  the  phenomenon 
corresponds  to  the  sensation,  I  term  its  matter,  but  that 
which  effects  that  the  content  of  the  phenomenon  can  be 
arranged  under  certain  relations,  I  call  its  form.  .  .  .  The 
matter  of  all  phenomena  is  given  to  us  a  posteriori ;  the  form 
must  lie  ready  a  priori  for  them  in  the  mind."  See  §  50,  note. 
'"'■  There  are  two  pure  forms  of  sensuous  intuition,  as  prin- 
ciples of  knowledge  a  priori,  namely,  space  and  time.  .  .  . 
Space  is  nothing  else  than  the  form  of  all  phenomena  of  the 
external  sense,  that  is,  the  subjective  condition  of  the  sensi- 
bility, under  which  alone  external  intuition  is  possible.  .  .  . 
Time  is  not  something  which  subsists  of  itself,  or  which 
inheres  in  things  as  an  objective  determination.  Time  is 
nothing  else  than  the  form  of  the  internal  sense."  ^ 

In  general,  then,  in  the  words  of  ]\Iansel,  ''  If  there  are  in 
every  act  of  consciousness  certain  invariable  elements,  which 
no  change  of  consciousness  can  ever  obliterate  or  alter,  which 
no  effort  of  thought  can  get  rid  of  or  conceive  as  absent,  and 
without  which  consciousness  itself  cannot  be  imag-ined  as 
possible,  these  may  be  conjectured  to  owe  their  existence  to 
the  constitution  of  the  subject,  which  remains  one  and  un- 
changed in  successive  acts,  while  the  changeable  features 
which  distinguish  one  mode  of  consciousness  from  another 
are  probably  due  to  the  different  constitutions  of  the  several 
things  of  which  the  subject  is  successively  conscious.  The 
former  may  therefore  be  distinguished  as  constituting  the 
form  or  subjective  ingredient  of  consciousness,  the  latter  as 
constituting  the  matter  or  objective  ingredient."  ^ 

This  is  the  extreme  of  intuitionism.  Those  who  hold  with 
Kant  this  doctrine  of  transcendental  knowledge  in  pure  ideas 
must  go  with  him  into  formal  or  critical  idealism,  and  thence 
logically  with  Fichte  into  absolute  idealism,  and  further  into 
nihilism.^ 

^  Critique  of  Pure  Heason,  p.  21  sq.  ^  Metaphysics,  p.  55. 

3  Hamilton,  dominated  by  Kant,  accepts  the  doctrine  of  innate  forms,  and 
then  sees  only  one  escape  from  idealism,  which  is  to  admit  both  an  empirical 


ORIGIN   OF  PURE   TRUTH.  125 

§  129.  The  intuitionism  now  widely  prevalent  among  phil- 
osophical thinkers  is  essentially  that  of  Leibnitz  and  Kant. 
It  may  be  restated  succinctly  thus  :  — 

An  empirical  intuition  is  adventitious  to  the  mind,  and 
strictly  sensuous.  Being  a  posteriori  or  logically  subsequent 
to,  and  in  consequence  of,  the  exercise  of  its  powers  of  obser- 
vation, it  is,  therefore,  acquired  and  contingent.  The  matter 
is  given  to  consciousness.  A  pure  intuition  is  native  to  the 
mind,  and  strictly  intellectual.  Being  a  priori,  or  a  logical 
antecedent,  a  condition  and  not  a  result  of  the  exercise  of 
its  powers  of  cognition,  it  is,  therefore,  original  and  neces- 
sary.    The  form  is  given  by  consciousness. 

That  pure  truths  are  native  to  the  mind,  or  innate,  does 
not  mean  that  they  are  congenital  in  the  sense  of  being 
born  with  and  in  us,  and  in  conscious  possession  of  the 
mind  from  the  moment  of  birth.  It  means  rather  that 
the  power  of  supplying  such  truth  is  provided  for  in  the 
constitution  of  the  mind,  so  that,  when  an  occasion  is  pre- 
sented by  experience,  it  is  then  born  of  the  mind,  it  then 
"arises  from  the  profundities  of  the  intellect,"  and  com- 
plements its  empirical  occasion  so  as  with  it  to  constitute 
a  cognition,  somewhat  as  a  lamp  furnishes  from  within  oil 
which  rises  to  meet  the  inflowing  air,  and  the  two  combine, 
giving  light. 

Pure  ideas  and  principles  are  thus  the  conditions  of  knowl- 
edge, having  a  source  and  origin  wholly  subjective.  They 
are  formed  in  and  by  consciousness,  which  is  constitutionally 
predisposed  to  this  end.  They  are  elicited  or  evoked  by 
sense,  yet  are  not  the  effects  of  sense,  but  are  self-developed. 
As  the  condition  of  its  intelligent  exercise,  they  are  logically 
but  not  chronologically  prior. 

Their  criterion,  necessity,  is  also  viewed  as  wholly  subjec- 

and  a  pure  knowledge  of  space  and  time.  He  holds,  therefore,  that  they  are 
"  both  real  forms  of  thought  and  conditions  of  things."  —  Hfeta.,  p.  647  ;  see 
also  pp.  346,  401.  This  is  very  curious,  and  savors  more  of  eclecticism  than 
of  parcimony. 


126  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

tive  in  its  origin.  Necessity  is  usually  defined,  negatively, 
as  the  impossibility  of  conceiving  the  contrary ;  positively, 
as  the  absolute  subjective  constraint  to  think  and  believe  thus 
and  so.  Consequently,  it  is  made  to  appear  that  pure  ideas 
and  principles,  instead  of  being  in  their  own  nature  irrever- 
sible and  authoritative,  owe  this  character  to  the  peculiar 
constitution  of  mind,  to  the  imbecility  or  the  constraint  of 
intellect.  They  are  truths  to  us  merely  because  our  nature 
is  such  that  we  must  think  and  believe  them.^ 

§  130.  It  seems  possible  to  take  and  maintain  a  view  of  the 
origin  of  necessary  truths  more  in  accord  Avith  the  approved 
principles  of  jDsychology,  and  with  the  common  judgments  of 
men,  possible  to  adopt  a  course  which  will  carry  us  clear  of 
both  the  Scylla  of  idealism  and  the  Chary bdis  of  materialism. 
This  view  is  that  mind  is  constituted  with  powers  to  know 
both  itself  and  things  other  than  itself,  the  conditions  of  their 
being,  as  well  as  their  relations  to  each  other;  and  not  con- 
stituted with  things  or  ideas  of  things  implanted  to  be  known, 
and  with  a  predisposition  to  know  them.  Our  cognitive  con- 
stitution is  such  as  fits  us,  not  only  for  the  empirical,  but  also 
for  the  pure  intuition  of  objective  reality.  Consciousness  in 
the  presence  of  some  adventitious,  empirical  matter  perceived 
by  sense,  external  or  internal,  has,  beside  and  along  with 

1  That  intuitionism  logically  and  historically  results  in  idealism,  or  that 
empiricism  leads  to  materialism,  is  not  an  argument  against  either,  but  merely 
a  warning  to  the  student  of  philosophy.  We  have  offered  some  logical  objec- 
tions to  empiricism  ;  let  us  here  note  one  against  the  extreme  intuitionism 
just  described.  We  accuse  it  of  bald  self-contradiction.  The  necessary  idea, 
of  space  for  instance,  is,  according  to  Leibnitz,  innate,  and  therefore,  accord- 
ing to  Kant,  wholly  subjective,  having  no  corresponding  objective  reality. 
Nevertheless,  according  to  both,  I  must  think  it  real.  Now  look  this  in  the 
face.  I  must  think  tliat  real,  which  I  prove  to  be  unreal.  I  must  believe 
that  true,  which  1  hold  to  be  false.  What  I  cannot  possibly  doubt,  I  do 
actually  doubt.  Is  there  any  escape  from  this  absurdity  ?  It  would  seem 
to  be  merely  an  identical  proposition  that  the  reality  and  truth  of  what  i& 
necessarily  conceived  and  believed  to  be  real  and  true  cannot  be  sincerely 
questioned  or  doubted. 


ORIGIN   OF  PURE   TRUTH.  12T 

sense,  an  intellectual  power  to  discern  in  the  total  fact  an 
essential  element,  equally  adventitious,  but  not  at  all  sen- 
suous. This  is  the  power  of  pure  reason.  That  element  of 
the  total  which  is  not  the  object  of  sense,  is  the  object  of 
reason ;  and  both  elements  are  objective  and  real  in  the  total 
thing  known.  Our  capacity  to  know,  though  limited,  is  a 
capacity  to  know  that  which  really  is,  though  now  we  know 
only  in  part,  yet  that  part  truly.  '•''Nam  neque  decipitur  ratioy 
nee  decipit  unquam.^^  ^ 

For  example :  A  series  of  events  is  observed  to  occur. 
That  they  are  plural  is  not  known  by  sense,  but  by  intellect, 
the  plurality  not  being  imposed  by  me  on  them,  but  existing 
in  the  total  datum,  and  discerned  by  pure  reason.  Let  us 
suppose  that  the  events  are  a  series  of  thoughts ;  the  time 
that  is  discerned  as  involved  in  the  conscious  succession  is 
not  a  form  imj^osed  by  me  on  the  fact,  but  the  form  or  rather 
condition  of  the  fact  itself ;  it  is  not  an  idea  born  of  me,  but 
an  idea  given  to  me  by  that  and  of  that  which  actually  and 
really  exists  in  the  fact,  and  is  discerned  by  my  power  of 
pure  intuition.  Again,  in  reflecting  that  these  events,  these 
changes  that  occur,  are  not  detached  but  grow  out  of  each 
other,  one  producing  another,  I  discern  the  necessary  relation 
of  cause  and  effect,  a  pure  intuition  of  a  reality  existing  in 
the  relations  of  the  things  themselves ;  not  imposed  by  me 
on  them,  but  discerned  by  me  as  existing  in  them.  Such 
ideas  and  principles,  then,  are  not  native  or  innate,  do  not 
originate  in  mind,  but  are  adventitious,  originating  in  the 
object,  and  mind  has  only  a  native  or  natural  power  to  know 
them. 2 

According  to  this  view,  pure  truth  is  objectively  real. 
Time,  space,  causation,  and  the  rest,  are  entities  and  facts,  as 
truly  so  as  matter  and  events.     Their  real  existence  does  not 

^  Manlius,  ii,  131. 

2  "Ni  nos  idees,  ni  nos  sentiments,  ne  sont  inngs,  mais  ils  sont  naturels, 
fondes  sur  la  constitution  de  notre  esprit  et  de  notre  ame,  et  sur  nos  rapports 
avec  tout  ce  que  nous  environne."  — Tuegot,  CEuvres,  t.  iv,  p.  308. 


128  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

depend  at  all  on  mind  either  to  originate  or  to  apprehend 
them,  and  they  would  continue  to  be,  should  all  mind  cease 
to  be.  Nor  are  they  dependent  upon  things  like  qualities, 
which  inhere  in  things,  but,  on  the  contrary,  things  are  de- 
pendent on  them.  They  stand  thus  prior  to  things  in  the 
relation  of  condition  to  conditioned.  They  must  be,  in  order 
that  things  may  be ;  the  former  necessary,  the  latter  contin- 
gent. Thus  time  is  a  condition  of  events,  space  a  condition 
of  body,  cause  a  condition  of  change,  substance  a  condition  of 
quality,  non-contradiction  a  condition  of  thought,  right  a 
condition  of  obligation,  etc.  If  a  thing  be  real,  its  condition 
must  be  real.^ 

§  131.  Pure  truth  is  primarily  and  immediately  discerned 
in  a  presentative  fact  of  consciousness.  By  abstraction  it  is 
contemplated  logically  apart  from  the  accompanying  empiri- 
cal elements,  and  afterward  this  abstract  object  alone  may  be 
recalled  to  mind.  Then  and  then  only  is  it  properly  a  pure 
idea. 

An  idea,  whether  pure  or  empirical,  whether  abstract  or 
concrete,  is  always  representative.  The  pure  idea  of  time, 
for  example,  represents  the  objective  reality.  My  idea  of 
Mt.  Blanc  is  an  image  representative  of  an  objective  reality, 
and  by  abstraction  my  idea  of  the  space  it  occupies,  and  of 
the  infinite  space  that  surrounds  it,  is  also  representative 
of  an  objective  reality.  I  cannot,  however,  form  an  image  of 
that  which  is  strictly  pure,  an  image  being  always  sensuous. 
T'he  pure  representative  idea  is  entertained  in  like  manner  as 
I  entertain  other  abstract  cognitions ;  it  is  enabled  to  repre- 

1  While  observing  that  the  pure  element  is  objectively  a  condition  of  the 
existence  of  a  thing,  conditio  essendi,  it  should  be  noted  that  subjectively  the 
case  is  reversed,  and  the  empirical  element  or  sensuous  experience  which 
occasions  the  pure  intuition  is  the  condition  of  my  discerning  it,  conditio 
cofjnoscendi.  E.g.  sjiace  must  bo,  in  order  that  body  may  be  ;  but  an  expe- 
rience of  body  must  be,  in  order  that  a  discernment  of  space  may  be.  This 
corresponds  to  the  logical  condition  or  reason.  E.tj.  if  body  is,  tlien  space 
must  be. 


ORIGIN   OF  PURE   TRUTH.  129 

dent  its  object  by  virtue  of  some  image  of  which  it  is  the 
condition  or  which  symbolizes  it.  Thus  our  complement  of 
pure  ideas  and  principles,  originally  adventitious,  and  ac- 
quired on  the  occasion  of  an  exercise  of  sense,  is  retained  by 
memory  as  a  complement  of  abstractions,  representative  of 
objective  and  concrete  realities. 

§  132.  Furthermore,  necessity  is  recognized  as  the  efficient 
and  sufficient  criterion  of  pure  truth,  but  not  at  all  as  its 
ground,  or  as  explanatory  of  its  nature.  Instead  of  exjjlaining 
the  nature  of  the  idea  by  subjective  necessity,  we  explain 
subjective  necessity  by  the  nature  of  the  idea.  We  hold  pure 
truth  to  be  in  its  own  nature  essentially  irreversible.  That 
it  is  to  us  self-evident,  adds  nothing  to  its  authority,  but  is 
merely  the  recognition  of  an  authority  which  is  inherent.^ 
That  a  thing  cannot  both  be  and  not  be,  that  space  is  a  real 
objective  condition  of  body,  that  every  change  is  caused,  that 
love  is  a  duty,  are  truths  self-evident,  authoritative,  regu- 
lative, simply  because  in  and  of  themselves  true  ;  subjectively 
necessary,  because  objectively  real.  Since  I  consciously  and 
constrainedly  know  that  things  exist  (§  68),  I  am  necessitated 
to  conceive  the  existence  of  their  essential  conditions.  I  know 
certainly  that  body  is,  therefore  I  know  necessarily  that  space 
is.  So  long  as  things  are,  their  conditions  must  be.  Pure 
principles  are  not  true  because  we  must  believe  them,  but  we 
must  believe  them  because  they  are  true.  Their  contraries 
I  cannot  conceive  even  as  logically  possible,  because  to  do  so 
I  must  first  annihilate  in  thought  the  existing  order  of  things 
with  their  conditions,  and  then,  out  of  pure  negatives,  construct 
an  inverted  cosmos,  which  I  freely  confess  myself  unable  to  do. 

1  Dr.  McCosh,  like  Father  Buffier,  takes  self-evidence  to  be  the  primary 
characteristic  of  intuitive  truth  (see  §  117,  note).  He  shrinks,  he  says,  from 
maintaining  that  a  proposition  is  true  because  we  must  believe  it,  and  adds  : 
"  I  would  not  ground  the  evidence  on  the  necessity  of  the  belief,  but  I  would 
ascribe  the  irresistible  nature  of  the  conviction  to  the  self-evidence.  —  Intui- 
.  tions  of  the  Mind,  p.  32. 


130  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Along  with  necessity  is  given  universality.  When  I 
abstract  the  conditioning  fact,  its  strict  universality  immedi- 
ately appears.  For  example,  when  I  discern  cause  as  con- 
ditioning a  change,  this  is  to  discern  it  as  conditioning 
chano-e  in  the  abstract,  and  what  is  this  but  to  think  cause 
as  conditioning  change  always  and  everywhere?  This  is 
not  to  generalize  it,  but  merely  to  recognize  a  universality 
that  is  inherent.  Generalization  is  a  subjective  fiction ;  uni- 
versality is  an  objective  fact.  It  is  incapable  of  conceivable 
limitation,  because  to  assign  a  limit  would  be  to  conceive 
beyond  the  limit  an  inverted  order  that  is  confessedly  incon- 
ceivable.^ 

§  133.  But  does  not  this  recoil  from  the  Leibnitzio-Kantian 
view  of  the  origin  of  pure  truth  carry  us  back  into  empiri- 
cism ?  Not  so  far.  Do  we  give  up  pure  intuition  ?  Not  at 
all.  We  hold  that  in  addition  to,  or  rather  along  with,  per- 
ception and  self-perception,  there  is  intuition  of  truth  that  is 
both  pure  and  real.  The  Lockian  empiricism  declares  sense 
and  reflection  alone  to  be  the  sources  of  knowledge.  We 
find  a  source  also  in  pure  reason.  The  knowledge  is  adven- 
titious, but  not  sensuous.     It  is  not  an  experience,  nor  given 

1  The  general  doctrine  here  proposed  accords  with  the  common  sense  of 
mankind,  and  is  not  wholly  new  in  philosophy.  Cousin  says:  "Conscious- 
ness is  only  a  witness,  it  makes  what  is  appear,  it  creates  nothing.  It  is  not 
because  consciousness  says  to  us  that  pure  reason  is  constrained  to  admit 
such  or  such  a  truth,  that  this  truth  exists  ;  it  is  because  it  exists  that  it  is 
impossible  for  reason  not  to  admit  it.  The  truths  that  reason  attains  are 
absolute  truths;  reason  does  not  create  them,  it  discovers  them.  Absolute 
truths,  are,  therefore,  independent  of  experience  and  consciousness,  and  at 
the  same  time  they  are  attested  by  experience  and  consciousness.  On  the 
one  hand,  these  truths  declare  themselves  in  experience  ;  on  the  other,  no 
experience  explains  them."  —  Trvr,  BemitifuJ,  and  Good,  p.  49. 

Sir  John  Herschel  says  sturdily  :  "The  reason  why  we  apprehend  things 
as  without  us  is  that  they  are  without  us.  We  take  it  for  granted  that  they 
exist  in  space,  because  they  do  so  exist,  and  because  such  existence  is  a  mat- 
ter of  direct  perception,  which  can  neither  be  explained  in  words  nor  con- 
travened in  imagination  ;  because,  in  short,  space  is  a  reality."  —  Review  of 
Whewell,  Essays,  p.  202, 


ORIGIN   OF  PURE   TRUTH.  131 

by  experience,  but  in  or  along  with  experience.  Empiricism 
declares  that  what  we  call  a  pure  truth  is  merely  an  induc- 
tion, a  generalization  from  sensuous  experience ;  we  hold 
that  its  strict  universality  cannot  possibly  be  reached  by 
induction,  and  is  not  generalization  at  all.  While  we  deny 
that  a  pure  idea  or  principle  is  a  priori,  in  the  sense  of 
native,  we  affirm  that  it  is  a  priori  in  the  more  accurate 
sense  of  a  condition,  and  that  the  empirical  element  is  a 
posteriori,  not  as  adventitious,  but  as  conditioned. 

§  134.  In  the  examination  of  pure  ideas  and  principles,  we 
have  passed  from  psychology  into  the  domain  of  philosophy, 
the  science  of  principles.  That  the  laws  of  thought  are 
laws  of  things,  is  a  metaphysical  thesis.  To  discover  the 
relation  that  exists  between  sensible  phenomena  and  super- 
sensible entities,  to  determine  the  relation  between  the  sub- 
jective necessities  of  thought  and  the  objective  necessities  of 
things,  to  ascertain  the  relation  of  self-evidence  to  reality, 
are  problems  that  have  engaged  the  closest  attention  of  the 
profoundest  thinkers.  But  no  approved  and  established 
solution  of  them  having  been  reached,  the  controversy  still 
goes  on.  The  hope  that  it  shall  end  is  a  hope  for  a  solution, 
for  these  questions  cannot  be  dismissed.  They  represent 
the  deepest  needs  of  human  intellect.  They  lie  on  the 
threshold  of  the  science  that  searches  for  freedom,  immor- 
tality, and  God.  For  while  psychology  is  merely  a  system  of 
natural  order,  and  ethics  a  system  of  natural  jurisprudence, 
metaphysics,  in  its  full  conception,  is  a  system  of  natural 
theology. 


132  IMMEDIATE  EyOW LEDGE. 


CHAPTER  VIIL. 

]\nND   AND   MATTER. 

§  135.  Thus  far  we  have  constantly  endeavored  to  look 
upon  mind  as  merely  a  complement  of  powers  in  exercise, 
that  is,  as  a  series  of  subjective  phenomena,  the  thought- 
series  let  us  call  it,  distinct  from  the  objective  or  material 
phenomena,  the  thing-series.  AVe  have  not  allowed  our 
examination  of  mind  to  be  burdened  and  embarrassed  by  any 
theory  as  to  its  ultimate  nature,  and  have  made  no  inferences 
from  the  character  or  relations  of  the  substratum  underlying 
subjective  phenomena.^  There  are,  however,  important  ques- 
tions respecting  this  substratum,  questions  that  press  for  an 
answer,  and  that  lead  to  grave  consequences  whatever  an- 
swer they  receive.  We  propose,  therefore,  in  this  supplemen- 
tary chapter,  to  present  briefly  the  principal  ^dews  which  are 
held  by  philosophers  on  the  subject. 

There  are  those  who  consider  the  substratum  underlying 
phenomena,  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  an  object  of  sense,  to  be 
merely  imaginary  and  hypothetical.  More  generally,  how- 
ever, it  is  considered  to  be  real,  by  empiricists  as  well  as  by 
intuitionists.  The  latter  hold  it  to  be  necessary  in  thought. 
Substance  is  certainly  not  an  object  of  sensuous  perception, 

1  There  are  only  two  ways,  says  Wundt,  of  conceiving  the  mind,  as  an 
act  and  as  a  substance.  According  to  the  first,  tlie  psychic  is  pure  actuality, 
immediately  given  in  the  manifestations  of  the  mental  life.  Hume,  Kant, 
Fichte,  Hegel,  and  Wundt  himself,  give  prominence  to  this  view.  To  the 
second  conception  belong  all  theories  according  to  which  psychic  facts  are 
manifestations  of  a  substratum,  a  substance  material  or  immaterial.  Most 
philosophers  discuss  this  view  subordinately. 


MIND  AND  MATTEB.  133 

but  is  discerned  by  reason,  by  the  insight  of  pure  intellect.^ 
In  everything  which  I  perceive  or  can  imagine  as  existing,  I 
distinguish  two  parts,  qualities  which  are  multiple  and  vari- 
able, and  a  being  which  is  one  and  identically  permanent. 
The  former  are  perceived,  the  latter  is  a  pure  intuition. 
These  two  elements  of  a  cognition  are  so  united  that  I  can 
separate  them  only  logically.  I  cannot  even  imagine  either 
one  as  truly  existing  apart  from  the  other.  There  is  no 
quality,  property,  attribute,  mode,  or  activity  which  is  not 
of  necessity  the  quality  or  activity  of  some  being,  and  this 
being  having  the  quality  or  activity  is  substance.  Each  of 
the  thought-series,  each  of  the  thing-series,  must  be  referred 
to  a  basis,  to  an  underlying  substratum,  to  a  being  of  which 
it  is  the  manifestation,  and  which  gives  unity  to  each  series. 
Mind  or  the  ego  is  commonly  viewed  as  the  permanent  basis 
of  the  thought-series,  and  matter  as  the  permanent  basis  of 
the  thing-series. 

Now  the  difficult  and  weighty  question  arises  :  Are  the 
two  series  manifestations  of  one  and  the  same  substance,  or 
of  two  diverse  substances  ?  Monism  is  the  doctrine  of  one 
substance.  It  has  taken  three  specific  forms,  idealism,  ma- 
terialism, and  absolute  identity.  Dualism  is  the  doctrine 
that  mind  and  matter  are  two  distinct  substances.  Of  these 
now,  in  their  order. 

§  136.  Idealism  teaches  that  mind  is  the  only  substance. 
The  existence  of  things  in  space  is  either  doubtful  and 
undemonstrable,  or  false  and  impossible.  The  first  is  the 
problematical   idealism  of   Descartes.     It   admits  the  strict 

1  See  it  mentioned  at  the  close  of  §  1 14.  See  especially  §  50,  and  the  notes. 
"  Substance  is  a  term  for  the  substratum  we  are  obliged  to  think  as  under- 
lying mode,  state,  quality,  etc."  —  Hamilton.  "It  is  the  abiding  which 
changes  only  in  its  affections."  — Aristotle.  It  involves  existence,  perma- 
nence, and  active  power  or  causality.  "Die  Substanz  in  Eaume  kennen 
wir  nur  durch  Krafte."  —  Kant.  "  Substance  is  action."  — Leibnitz.  Bos- 
chovich  reduces  quality  to  force,  and  substance  to  centre  of  force. 


134  IMMEDIATE   KNOWLEDGE. 

certainty  of  only  one  empirical  proposition,  to  wit :  I  am ; 
alleging  an  inability  to  prove,  on  this  exclusive  basis,  by 
means  of  immediate  experience,  the  existence  of  anything 
besides  self  and  its  modes,  and  so  leaving  objective  reality 
in  doubt  and  improbable.  The  second  is  the  dogmatical 
idealism  of  Berkeley.  It  maintains  that  neither  space  nor 
the  things  of  which  it  is  the  inseparable  condition,  are  real, 
but  are  mere  products  of  imagination.  I  have  sensations  and 
ideas ;  these  alone  exist,  all  else  is  unreal ;  the  existence 
of  an  external  world  being  an  illusion  which  philosophy 
corrects. 

Hume,  accepting  the  principles  of  the  then  prevailing 
philosophemes,  by  a  cogent  logic  drove  idealism  into  nihil- 
ism.^  This  brought  about  a  clearing  up  (^AufMiirung^  in 
philosoph3^  Kant  awoke  from  his  "  dogmatic  slumber,"  and 
founded  the  critical  philosophy.  He  gives  a  "  refutation  of 
idealism  "  whicli  concludes  :  "  The  consciousness  of  my  own 
existence  is  at  the  same  time  an  immediate  consciousness  of 
the  existence  of  other  things  without  me."  ^  Thus  he  affirms 
objective  reality,  but  he  denies  any  possible  knowledge  of 
things  in  themselves,  noumena,  maintaining  that  we  know 
only  phenomena.  Hence  his  doctrine  becomes  at  last  a 
formal,  or  critical,  or  transcendental  idealism. 

The  Kantian  doctrine  was  apodeictically  resolved  by  Fichte 
and    Jacobi  into   absolute   idealism,   in   which  this  form  of 

1  "The  celebrated  David  Hume  was  one  of  those  geographers  of  human 
reason  who  beheve  that  they  have  given  a  sufficient  answer  to  all  questions 
raised  by  pure  reason,  by  declaring  them  to  lie  beyond  the  horizon  of  our 
knowledge,  a  horizon  which,  however,  Hume  was  unable  to  determine.  Yet 
he  was  perhaps  the  ablest  and  most  ingenious  of  all  sceptical  philosophers, 
and  his  writings  have,  undoubtedly,  exerted  the  most  powerful  influence 
in  awakening  reason  to  a  thorough  investigation  into  its  own  powers."  — 
C.  P.  R.,  pp.  462-4. 

2  Critique  of  Pure  Benson,  p.  10()  sq.  Subsequently,  he  says  that  this  is 
"The  only  possible  demonstration  of  the  reality  of  an  external  world."  See 
note  by  Hamilton,  Discussions,  p.  07,  and  Meta.,  p.  648,  Am.  eds. 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  135 

monism  at  once  culminated  and  broke  down.^  Thereupon 
Comte  mercilessly  exposed  the  fruitlessness  of  speculation, 
and  contemptuously  dismissed  metaphysics  to  make  room  for 
the  positive  philosoph}'.^  Still  idealism  lingers  in  Germany, 
especially  in  the  modified  form  of  which  Schopenhauer  was 
the  apostle.  "  The  world,"  says  he,  "  is  merely  my  represent- 
ation (^Dle  Welt  ist  meine  Vorstellung').''''  He  reduces  all 
existence  to  force,  and  this  to  will;  "reality  is  only  an 
infinitely  varied  impulse  of  will,"  and  "the  world  is  one  vast 
will  constantly  rushing  into  life  (^der  Wille  zum  Leben).  " 
With  this  he  associated  the  now  popular  doctrine  of  pessi- 
mism.3 

§  137.  Further  mention  of  idealism  will  be  made  subse- 
quently (§  146).  Just  here  we  add  only  that  a  self-contra- 
diction is  chargeable,  not  perhaps  on  the  doctrine  itself,  but 
upon  its  advocates.  The  most  authoritative  with  candor 
admit  that  we  of  necessity,  by  the  very  constitution  of  our 
nature,    do    believe    in   the    existence    of   external    reality.* 

1  See  close  of  §  128.  The  dogmatism  of  Fichte  finally  reached  nihilism, 
which  is  scepticism  of  all  existence.  "The  sum  total,"  says  he,  "is  this: 
There  is  absolutely  nothing  permanent  either  without  me  or  within  me,  but 
only  an  unceasing  change.  I  know  absolutely  nothing  of  any  existence,  not 
even  of  my  own.  I  myself  know  nothing,  am  nothing.  Images  (Bilder) 
there  are  ;  they  constitute  all  that  apparently  exists  ;  images  that  pass  and 
vanish  without  there  being  aught  to  witness  their  transition.  I  myself  am 
one  of  these  images  ;  nay,  I  am  not  even  thus  much,  but  only  a  confused 
image  of  images.  All  reality  is  converted  into  a  marvellous  dream  without  a 
life  to  dream  of,  and  without  a  mind  to  dream  ;  into  a  dream  made  up  only 
of  a  dream.  Perception  is  a  dream  ;  thought  —  the  source  of  all  the  existence 
and  all  the  reality  which  I  imagine  to  myself  of  my  existence,  of  my  power, 
of  my  destination  —  is  the  dream  of  that  dream." 

2  See  Buckle,  Hist,  of  Civ.,  p.  113  ;  and  Comte's  treatise,  translated  by 
Harriet  Martineau. 

3  "  Qu'est-ce  que  I'homme  ?  Son  savoir  n'est  qu'ignorance,  sa  grandeur 
que  bassesse,  sa  force  qu'infirmite,  son  plaisir  que  douleur.  J'avais  lu  cela 
dans  Schopenhauer,  qui  I'avait  lu  dans  Heraclite."  —  Mounier.  Cf.  Pascal, 
Pensees,  pt.  i,  art.  7. 

*  See  Berkeley  and  Hume,. quoted  by  Hamilton,  Meta.,  p.  201 ;  and  many 
others  in  Reid,  note  A,  §  1. 


136  ni MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

They  maintain,  however,  that  possibly,  or  certainly,  we  are 
deceived  in  this  by  the  false  testimony  of  consciousness.^ 
That  is,  what  they  do  believe,  they  do  not  believe.  To  say 
that  "  what  I  am  constrained  to  regard  as  not  me,  is  only  a 
modification  of  me,  wliich  I,  deluded  by  my  nature,  mistake, 
and  must  mistake,  for  something  different  from  me,"  is 
obviously  self-contradictory .^ 

§  138.  Materialism,  the  second  form  of  monism,  teaches 
that  matter  is  the  only  substance.  It  originated  in  the  fifth 
century,  B.C.,  with  the  atoraists.  The  Epicureans  adopted 
it.  It  was  advocated  by  Lucretius.^  It  has  had  adlierents 
ever  since,  though  never  rising  to  the  dignity  of  a  philoso- 
pheme.  In  modern  times  the  sensualism  of  Hobbes  and 
Locke  has  given  a  materialistic  tendency  to  English  thought, 
but  excepting  Priestly  hardly  any  of  note  have  been  out- 
spoken materialists.  In  Germany,  thorough-going  materialism 
was  first  avowed  by  Moleschott  in  1852,  followed  very  soon 
by  Vogt  and  Biichner.* 

1  See  §  102.  Calderwood  says:  "The  testimony  of  consciousness  cannot 
be  denied  without  self-contradiction.  He  who  doubts  it  relies  on  the  testi- 
mony of  consciousness  for  the  affirmation  of  his  doubt."  —  Moral  Phil., 
Int.,  §  7. 

2  Hamilton  well  says  :  "To  doubt  whether  what  we  necessarily  think  in  a 
certain  manner,  actually  exists  as  we  conceive  it,  is  nothing  less  than  an 
endeavor  to  think  the  necessary  as  not  necessary  or  the  impossible,  which  is 
contradictory."  — Logic,  p.  382.     See  §  129,  note. 

"  The  belief  which  accompanies  consciousness,"  says  Stewart,  "  as  to  the 
present  existence  of  its  appropriate  phenomena  (and  this  has  never  been 
questioned)  rests  on  no  foundation  more  solid  than  our  belief  of  the  existence 
of  external  objects.  The  only  account  that  can  be  given  of  this  belief  is  that 
it  forms  a  necessary  part  of  our  constitution,  against  which  metaphysicians 
may  easily  argue  so  as  to  perplex  the  judgment,  but  of  which  it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  divest  ourselves  for  a  moment,  either  in  the  business  of  life  or  in 
the  pursuit  of  science."  —  Phil.  Essays,  in  H'oyA-.s,  vol.  v,  p.  57. 

3  In  his  poem,  De  Rernm  Natura,  first  century,  b.c. 

*  The  latter  is  its  popular  exponent.  His  work.  Matter  and  Force,  which 
was  first  published  in  185(5,  has  run  through  many  editions,  and  lias  been 
translated.  Its  point  of  departure,  its  basic  principle,  is :  "No  matter  with- 
out force,  and  no  force  without  matter." 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  137 

The  following  may  be  taken  as  its  creed :  "  Instinct, 
passion,  thought,  are  the  acts  of  organized  substance.  All 
causes  are  material  causes.  In  material  conditions  I  find  the 
origin  of  all  religions,  all  philosophies,  all  opinions,  all  vir- 
tues, all  spiritual  states  and  influences,  in  the  same  manner 
that  I  find  the  origin  of  all  diseases  and  of  all  insanities 
in  material  conditions  and  causes.  I  am  a  creature  of 
necessity  ;  I  claim  neither  merit  nor  demerit.  I  feel  that 
I  am  as  completely  the  result  of  my  nature,  and  impelled  to 
do  what  I  do,  as  the  needle  to  point  to  the  north,  or  the 
puppet  to  move  according  as  the  string  is  pulled.  I  can- 
not alter  my  will,  or  be  other  than  Avhat  I  am,  and  cannot 
deserve  either  reward  or  punishment."  ^ 

§  139.  The  most  refined  and  subtile  form  of  the  doctrine  is 
as  follows :  "  Mind  is  merely  the  consequence  of  a  certain 
mode  of  material  organization.  It  is  not  a  distinct  substance, 
but  merely  a  series  of  phenomena  which  are  as  truly  phe- 
nomena of  matter  as  the  physical  phenomena.  Sundry  brain 
centres  have  the  function  of  producing  consciousness,  or 
rather,  of  manifesting  the  phenomena  of  consciousness,  while 
manifesting  physical  phenomena.  In  these  centres  the  physi- 
cal series  and  the  psychical  series  always  appear  together, 
the  one  objectively,  the  other  subjectively ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
matter  constituting  a  centre  has  two  sides  or  faces,  the 
objective  or  physical,  and  the  subjective  or  psychical.  These 
are  in  no  sense  commutable,  for  the  psychical  series  is  merely 
a  subjective  shadow  that  attends  the  objective  physical 
series. 

"  A  molecule  that  undergoes  a  certain  chemical  change, 
experiences  a  sensation.  As  the  one  is  a  mode  of  motion, 
so  is  the  other,  or  rather,  they  are  two  distinct  manifestations 
of  the  same  motion.  Mental  movement  of  any  sort  is  not  at 
all  due  to  self-determination,  but  is  a  movement  of  the  ner- 

1  From  a  work  by  H.  G.  Atkinson  and  Harriet  Martineau. 


188  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

vous  mechanism  as  to  its  subjective  face.  Perception,  mem- 
ory, and  reasoning  are  only  the  mental  side  of  changes  in  the 
brain,  and  a  change  of  ideas  means  that  the  corresponding 
physical  states  have  been  displaced  by  others."  ^  According 
to  this  doctrine,  brain  itself  is  I. 

§  140.  Mind  and  matter  are  made  known  to  us  b}'  two 
widely  distinct  series  of  phenomena,  which  we  have  called 
the  thought-series  and  the  thing-series.  The  seeming  incom- 
patibility of  these  to  inhere  in  one  substance  is  not  sufficient 
ground  for  rejecting  the  materialistic  hypothesis.  Though  I 
may  be  unable  to  conceive  of  conscious  matter,  it  may  never- 
theless be  actual.  The  question  is  not  to  be  settled  by  my 
preconceived  notions  of  what  may  or  may  not  be,  but  by  a 
philosophical  and  logical  treatment  of  the  facts.  If  they  can 
be  explained  on  the  hj^pothesis  of  one  substance,  then,  by 
the  law  of  parcimony,  that  entities  are  not  to  be  multiplied 
without  necessity,  this  hypothesis  is  preferable  to  the  dual 
hypothesis.^ 

1  From  Professor  Bowne's  lecture  on  "  Some  Difficulties  in  Modern  Mate- 
rialism." —  Christian  Philosophy  Quarterly  for  October,  1881. 

We  may  at  once  observe  that  materialism,  approaching  mind  from  the 
outside,  and  interiireting  the  facts  of  psychology  in  the  language  of  physi- 
ology, seeks  to  replace  terms  of  mind  by  terms  of  brain.  It  proposes  to 
identify  mental  with  cerebral  functions,  and  to  reduce  intellectual  action  to 
molecular  motion.  David  Ferrier,  an  authority  in  physiology,  and  a  favorite 
with  the  materialists,  says:  "No  purely  physiological  investigation  can 
explain  the  phenomena  of  consciousness.  We  may  succeed  in  determining 
the  exact  nature  of  the  molecular  changes  which  occur  in  the  brain-cells 
when  a  sensation  is  experienced,  but  this  will  not  bring  us  one  whit  nearer 
the  exi)lanation  of  the  ultimate  nature  of  that  which  constitutes  a  sensation. 
The  one  is  objective,  the  other  subjective,  and  neither  can  be  expressed  in 
terms  of  the  other.  We  cannot  say  that  tliey  are  identical,  but  only  that  tlie 
two  are  correlated."  — Functions  of  tin'  Brain,  §  89. 

2  See  §  100  and  §  82,  note.  Pascal  says:  "  Quand  on  pr6tendrait  que 
nous  fussions  simplement  corporal,  cela  nous  exclurait  de  la  connaissance 
<les  choses,  n'y  ayant  rien  de  si  inconceivable  (]ue  de  dire  que  la  matiere 
puisse  se  connaitre  soi-memc."  —  Pcnsi'cs,  pt.  i,  art.  7,  §  2(i. 

II;Miiiltnii  snvs:    "  W'c  know  nothing  whatever  of  niiiul  ami   iiialtei'  con- 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  139 

All  ground  for  the  objection  disappears  when  we  find  that 
the  conception  is  not,  in  some  aspects,  impossible,  nor  indeed 
very  difficult.  That  a  living  molecule  which  is  warm  should 
feel  warm,  seems  not  hard  to  conceive,  especially  when  we 
consider  that  the  first  is  objective,  a  manifestation  to  an 
observer,  the  other  subjective,  a  manifestation  to  itself.  It 
would  seem  harder  to  conceive  that  this  molecule  both 
attracts  and  repels  at  once  an  adjacent  molecule,  yet  no  one 
questions  the  fact. 

§  141.  Further  mention  of  materialism  will  be  made  subse- 
quently (§  147),  but  we  remark  here,  in  passing,  some  objec- 
tions having  greater  weight  than  that  just  considered.  The 
hypothesis  assumes  the  substantial  existence  of  matter,  and 
reduces  to  it  the  phenomena  of  mind.  It  entirely  ignores  the 
prior  and  hard  problem  of  philosophy  which  questions  the 
existence  of  external  reality.  At  the  outset  it  assigns  sub- 
stance to  the  thing-series,  and  so  makes  an  unwarranted 
assumption. 

If  we  allow  that  the  two  series  of  phenomena  are  given  in 
equipoise,  then  the  materialist  must  show  whj^  the  thing- 
series  should  have  preponderance.  His  reasons  do  not  appear. 
Primarily,  in  a  monist  scheme,  it  would  seem  as  reasonable 
to  claim  that  the  thing-series  is  an  objective  phase  of  mind, 
as  that  the  thought-series  is  a  subjective  phase  of  matter. 
But,  indeed,  it  is  more  reasonable  ;  for  objects  are  known 
only  by  their  opposition  to  a  subject,  the  material  phenomena 
only  through  the  mental.     The  facts  of  consciousness  being 

sidered  as  substances ;  they  are  known  to  us  only  as  a  two- fold  series  of 
phenomena  ;  and  we  can  justify,  against  the  law  of  parcimony,  the  postulate 
of  two  substances  only  on  the  ground  that  the  two  series  are  reciprocally  so 
contrary  and  incompatible  that  one  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  other,  nor  both 
be  supposed  to  inhere  in  one  common  substance."  —  In  Beid,  note  A,  §  2. 
See  also  Meta.,  p.  97.  President  Mark  Hopkins  in  his  Lowell  Lectures  takes 
the  same  ground  ;  and  many  others.  A  hundred  years  ago  Dr.  Priestly  refuted 
this  dualist  argument  in  his  work,  MatrriaJism.  See  also  Herbert  Spencer's 
sweeping  and  eloquent  rebuke  in  his  Principles  of  Fsychology,  §  268  sq. 


140  niMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

known  to  us  immediately  and  in  themselves,  and  the  facts  of 
the  external  world  being  known,  not  in  themselves,  but 
mediatel}^  through  the  facts  of  consciousness,  surely  if  one 
series  is  to  exj^lain  the  other,  the  thought-series  should  be 
applied  to  explain  the  thing-series.  Hence,  in  assigning  a 
substratum,  it  is  evident  that  the  thought-series,  being  first 
in  order  of  knowledge,  has  the  first  claim ;  and  so,  in  a 
monist  scheme,  the  logical  presumption  is  in  favor  of  ideal- 
ism. The  materialistic  philosophy  must,  therefore,  first 
dispose  of  idealism,  then,  by  the  law  of  parcimony,  it  can 
claim  the  logical  presumption  against  dualism.  It  makes  no 
pretence,  however,  to  any  such  process,  and  consequently 
lacks  logical  and  philosophical  warrant. 

Materialism  assumes  that  all  forces  are  physical  forces, 
that  all  causes  are  material  causes.  This  begs  the  whole 
question.  For  if,  by  the  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of 
energy,  each  physical  antecedent  is  entirely  exhausted  by 
its  physical  consequent,  then  each  physical  consequent  is 
fully  explained  by  its  physical  antecedent.  This  shuts  spirit 
out  of  the  circle,  allows  it  no  link  in  the  chain  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  simply  denies  its  separate  substantial  existence. 
But  what  fact  of  nature  or  principle  of  science  forbids  the 
supposition  that  there  are  psychical  as  well  as  physical  forces  ? 
In  the  acknowledged  phenomena  of  the  thought-series  we 
have  at  least  as  much  evidence  of  the  existence  and  play  of 
force,  as  in  the  phenomena  of  the  thing-series.  Moreover,  it 
is  also  a  fact  of  consciousness  that  certain  of  the  thoug-ht- 
series  are  the  unconditional  antecedents  or  causes  of  certain 
changes  of  the  thing-series,  and  vice  versa.  The  claim  that 
force  is  only  of  one  kind  is  arbitrary.  The  assumption -is 
unwarranted.^ 

1  Bain,  in  a  somewliat  rhetorical  passage,  quoted  approvingly  by  Ferrier, 
says  :  "  It  would  be  incompatible  with  everything  we  know  of  cerebral  action 
to  suppose  that  the  physical  chain  ends  abruptly  in  a  physical  void  occupied 
by  an  immaterial  substance  ;  which  immaterial  substance,  after  working 
alone,  imparts  its  results  to  the  other  edge  of  the  physical  break  and  deter- 


HIND  AND  MATTER.  141 

Let  us  add  to  these  philosophic  objections,  that  the  logical 
consequence  of  materialism  is  extreme  agnosticism.  It 
involves  the  doctrine  of  a  necessitated  will,  and  reduces  man 
to  an  irresponsible  automaton. 

§  142.  The  third  form  of  monism  is  absolute  identity.  It 
appears  that  a  unitarian  scheme,  starting  with  the  subjective 
fact  of  self-existence,  and  accepting  that  only  as  original  and 
genetic,  can  never  get  beyond  self,  and  develops  into  ideal- 
ism ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  starting  with  the  objective  fact  of 
material  existence,  and  accepting  that  only  as  original  and 
genetic,  can  never  by  this  path  discover  self,  and  develops 
into  materialism.  But  there  are  monists  who  admit  the  tes- 
timony of  consciousness  to  the  equipoise  of  the  mental  and 

mines  the  active  response  —  two  shores  of  the  material  with  an  intervening 
ocean  of  the  immaterial."  —  3Ii.nd  and  Body,  p.  131  ;  Functions  of  the  Brain, 
§  88.     But  by  onr  theory  mind  and  brain  act  concomitantly,  §  143. 

Huxley,  in  his  lecture  "  On  the  Hypothesis  that  Animals  are  Automata," 
says:  "Molecular  changes  in  the  brain  are  the  causes  of  all  states  of  con- 
sciousness. Is  there  any  evidence  that  these  states  of  consciousness  may,  con- 
versely, cause  those  molecular  changes  which  give  rise  to  muscular  motions  ? 
I  see  no  such  evidence.  If  there  be  none,  it  follows  that  our  mental  condi- 
tions are  simply  the  symbols  in  consciousness  of  the  changes  which  take 
place  automatically  in  the  organism  ;  and  that,  to  take  an  extreme  illustra- 
tion, the  feeling  we  call  volition  is  not  the  cause  of  a  voluntary  act,  but  the 
symbol  of  that  state  of  the  brain  which  is  the  immediate  cause  of  that  act." 
He  allows  that  the  thing-series  causes  the  thought-series  (though  not  in  the 
sense  of  expending  energy  upon  it),  but  not  the  reverse. 

Carpenter  may  be  quoted  in  reply  :  ' '  There  is  just  the  same  evidence  of 
correlation  between  nerve-force  and  that  primary  state  of  mental  activity  we 
call  a  sensation,  that  there  is  between  light  and  nerve-force  ;  each  antecedent 
being  followed  by  its  corresponding  consequent.  The  like  correlation  may 
be  shown  to  exist  between  mental  states  and  the  form  of  nerve-force  which 
calls  forth  motion  through  the  muscular  apparatus.  That  mental  antece- 
dents can  thus  call  forth  physical  consequents  is  just  as  certain  as  that 
physical  antecedents  can  call  forth  mental  consequents  ;  and  thus  the  cor- 
relation between  mind-force  and  nerve-force  is  shown  to  be  complete  both 
ways,  each  being  able  to  excite  the  other."  —  Mental  Physiology,  §§  11,  12. 
The  evidence  of  correlation  between  mental  and  neural  forces  is  stronger 
than  that  of  correlation  between  physical  forces  ;  for  the  latter  is  deduced 
from  observation,  while  the  former  is  within  consciousness. 


142  UIMEUIATE  nyowLKDi.::. 

material  phenomena,  and  do  not  attempt  to  reduce  mind  to 
matter,  or  matter  to  mind.  They  reject,  however,  the  evi- 
dence of  consciousness  to  their  antithesis  in  existence,  and 
maintain  that  mind  and  matter  are  only  phenomenal  modifi- 
cations of  the  same  common  substance.  This  is  the  doctrine 
of  absolute  identity.^ 

§  143.  The  advocates  of  this  doctrine  rely  for  proof  upon 
the  admitted  thorough-going  concomitance  of  mental  and 
material  phenomena.  There  is  no  mental  action,  even  that 
commonly  reckoned  as  at  furthest  remove  from  physical 
action,  such  as  a  discernment  of  pure  intellect  or  a  gentle 
monition  of  conscience,  without  a  corresponding  movement 
of  neural  matter  and  a  waste  of  nervous  energy;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  is  no  normal  nerve-stimulus  without 
its  corresponding  consciousness.  This  correspondence  is  also 
in  degree,  the  increased  or  diminished  intensity  of  the  one 
being  attended  by  a  like  change  in  the  other.^  Moreover, 
mind  and  brain  develop  together.  Sensation,  reflection, 
moral  sensibility,  are  gradually  evolved,  growing  as  the 
nerves  grow,  and  as  the  brain  takes  shape  and  organs.^ 

1  Spinoza  expresses  it  pantheistically  thus:  "Matter  and  spirit  have  no 
sepai-ate  existence  ;  there  is  only  one  substance  in  the  universe,  of  wliich 
extension  and  thought  are  the  corresponding  attributes  or  phenomena,  each 
correspondent  to  each."     So  also  Fechner,  in  Phys.  und  Phil.,  p.  258  sq. 

2  "  We  believe,"  says  Tyndall,  "that  every  thought  and  every  feeling  has 
its  definite  mechanical  correlative,  that  it  is  accompanied  by  a  certain  break- 
ing up  and  remodelling  of  the  atoms  of  the  nervous  organism."  Bain  says: 
"For  every  mental  shock,  every  awakening  of  consciousness,  every  mental 
transition,  there  must  be  a  concomitant  nervous  shock  ;  and  as  the  one  is 
more  or  less  intense,  so  mu.st  be  the  other."  —  Mind  and  Body,  p.  42. 

This  admitted  concomitance  is  in  opposition  to  the  excessive  spiritualizing 
tendencies  of  the  Platonic  school,  and  of  those  theological  schools  that  con- 
sider the  body  as  a  clog,  a  fetter,  a  prison-house  of  mind,  and  it  calls  for  a 
modification  of  both  psychological  and  theological  doctrine.    Its  evidence  is 
to  be  found  in  a  multitude  of  observed  facts  which  cannot  here  be  cited. 
3  "For  nature,  crescent,  does  not  grow  alone 
In  thews  and  hulk  ;  but  as  this  temple  waxes, 
The  inward  service  of  the  niiiul  and  soul 
Grows  wide  withal."  —  Ilamlct,  A.  1,  sc.  3. 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  143 

The  refined  monist  infers  from  tliis  concomitant  variation 
identity  of  substance.  But  logic  teaches  that  when  phenom- 
ena vary  concomitantly,  it  is  proof  either  that  they  are  related 
as  cause  and  effect,  or  as  effects  of  a  common  cause,  and  it 
adds  that  by  this  method  alone  we  cannot  determine  which.^ 
Accordingly,  since  the  subjective  and  objective  phenomena 
vary  together,  there  is  a  bond  of  causation  between  them,  yet 
a  doubt  remains.  But  our  refined  monist  does  not  allow  the 
doubt.  On  this  inductive  method  alone,  holding  it  to  be  the 
only  one  applicable  to  the  case,  he  affirms  the  phenomena 
to  be  the  effects  of  a  common  cause.^  He  goes  further,  with- 
out proof,  and  affirms  that  the  common  cause  is  the  only  sub- 
stance in  the  case.  Had  he  proved  the  common  cause,  the 
oneness  of  substance  would  not  follow.  The  oceanic  varies 
with  the  atmospheric  tide ;  are  they  one  in  substance  with 
their  common  cause  ?  The  admitted  concomitance  of  mind 
and  brain  is  insufficient  ground  for  holding  the  identity  of 
substance.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  in  sober  science  another 
example  of  such  an  unwarranted,  illogical  inference. 

§  144.  When  we  examine  this  doctrine  historically,  we  find 
that  it  is  a  position  of  unstable  equilibrium.  Those  who  have 
endeavored  to  maintain  it  from  a  subjective  standpoint,  have 
eventually  resolved  all  existence  into  mind  and  ideas,  and 
become  pronounced  idealists.  Those  who  have  tried  to  main- 
tain it  from  an  objective  standpoint,  have  gravitated  into  a 
refined  materialism.^    Indeed,  it  does  not  seem  of  consequence 

1  See  Mill,  Logic,  bk.  iii,  cli.  8,  §  6. 

2  See  Bain,  Mind  and  Body,  ch.  3.  Its  title  is:  "The  connexion  viewed 
as  correspondence,  or  concomitant  variation."      Cf.  Spencer,  quoted  below. 

3  The  most  illustrious  advocates  of  the  doctrine  in  modern  times  are  Schel- 
ling,  Hegel,  and  Cousin.  They  endeavor  to  maintain  it  from  the  subjective 
standpoint,  but  eventually  resolve  all  existence  into  mind  and  ideas,  and 
are  known  as  idealists. 

Spencer  declares  that  "the  truth  is  not  expressed  either  by  spiritualism 
or  by  materialism,  however  modified  and  however  refined"  ;  and  concludes 
that  "it  is  one  and  the  same  ultimate  reality  which  is  manifested  to  us  sub- 
jectively and  objectively.     For  while  the  nature  of  that  which  is  manifested 


144  IMMEDIATE  KXOWLEDGE. 

by  what  name  we  call  the  one  substance.  If  one,  it  is  one 
that  manifests  both  mental  and  material  phenomena.  But  it 
is  impossible  to  maintain  their  equipoise  ;  for  the  unavoidable 
necessity  of  explaining  one  through  the  other  brings  about  a 
preponderance  that  quickly  reduces  the  scheme,  either  to 
idealism  or  to  materialism. 

§  145.  Dualism  teaches  that  mind  and  matter,  specifically 
brain,  are  two  co-ordinated  but  distinct  substances,  widely 
differing  in  kind,  indeed,  having  no  quality  in  common. 
Matter  is  the  substance  in  which  physical  phenomena,  those 
of  the  thing-series,  inhere.  Mind  is  the  substance  in  which 
physical  phenomena,  those  of  the  thought-series,  inhere.  In 
short,  matter  is  extended  substance ;  mind  is  conscious  sub- 
stance (§  50)  .1 

under  either  form  proves  to  be  inscrutable,  the  order  of  its  manifestations 
throughout  all  mental  phenomena  proves  to  be  the  same  as  the  order  of  its 
manifestations  throughout  all  material  phenomena." — Principles  of  Psy- 
chology, §§  272-3. 

Bain's  conclusion  is  similar.  He  says :  "  The  arguments  for  the  two 
substances  have,  we  believe,  now  entirely  lost  their  validity ;  they  are  no 
longer  compatible  with  ascertained  science  and  clear  thinliing.  The  one 
substance  with  two  sets  of  properties,  two  sides,  the  physical  and  the  mental, 
a  double-faced  unity,  would  appear  to  comply  with  all  the  exigencies  of  the 
case.  We  are  to  deal  with  this,  as  in  the  langnage  of  the  Athanasian  creed, 
not  confounding  the  persons,  nor  dividing  the  substance."  —  Mind  and  Body, 
p.  196. 

But  again  the  position  has  proved  unstable,  and  gravitates  in  these  cases, 
on  the  other  hand,  into  materialism.  Bain  himself  calls  it  "  a  guarded  or 
qualified  materialism,  saving  the  contrast  of  mind  and  matter."  — Id.,  p.  140. 
Spencer,  however,  denies  that  he  identifies  mind  with  matter,  saying,  "  I  do 
no  such  thing ;  I  identify  mind  with  motion,  and  motion  is  inconceivable  by 
us  as  in  any  sense  material."  Hut  motion  is  only  an  accidental  property  of 
body,  manifest  by  change  of  place.    That  is,  mind  is  a  property  of  matter. 

1  The  philosophic  doctrine  of  dualism,  or  spiritism,  originated  in  the  ideal- 
ism of  riato.  Gradually  becoming  more  and  more  refined  by  constant  dis- 
putation, it  culminated  in  the  speculations  of  the  scholastic  Tliomas  Aquinas, 
1225-74.  He  maintained  that  the  human  soul  is  a  imit  and  a  spirit,  in  the 
strictest  sense  immaterial,  the  distinction  between  mind  and  matter  being 
thorough-going  and  inerasible.  His  views  received  the  dogmatic  sanction  of 
the  Council  of  Vienna  in  1311,  they  were  adopted  and  enforced  by  Calvin, 
and  have  since  prevailed  in  theology. 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  145 

Dualism  opposes  monism  primarily  on  the  ground  that  no 
hypothesis  of  unity  has  explained  or  can  explain  the  facts, 
and  secondarily,  because  in  every  form  it  leads,  logically  and 
historically,  to  revolting  consequences.  Holding  that  an 
hypothesis  of  plural  entities  is  necessary  to  the  explanation, 
it  does  not  violate,  but  is  in  accord  with  the  law  of  parcimony. 
Inasmuch  as  the  scheme  of  absolute  identity  reduces  inevi- 
tably either  to  idealism  or  to  materialism,  we  may  omit  fur- 
ther notice  of  it,  and  confine  our  attention  to  these.  Some 
objections  to  both  have  been  offered  already.  We  now  pro- 
pose to  supersede  them  by  citing  evidence  in  favor  of  dualism. 

§  146.  Beginning,  as  we  must,  with  a  datum  of  conscious- 
ness, we  find  that  the  Cartesian  "I  am"  is  but  a  part  of 
the  primum  cognitum}  the  complete  fact  of  consciousness 
consisting  of  essential  correlatives,  the  full  dualistic  formula 
being:  Both  I  and  another  exist.  The  conclusion  reached 
at  the  close  of  §  101  is  only  another  statement  of  the  same 
principle.  If  it  be  accepted  as  established,  the  earlier  forms 
of  idealism,  which  it  contradicts,  are  refuted.^ 

1  See  §  114,  note  2. 

2  Reid,  as  well  as  Kant,  was  roused  by  the  scepticism  of  Hume  (§  136). 
He  also  allowed  Hume's  logic  to  be  irrefragable,  and  found  that  philosophy 
could  be  saved  only  by  a  reformation  of  its  generally  admitted  principles. 
This  he  applied  himself  to  bring  about,  and  on  subjecting  them  to  a  new  and 
rigorous  criticism,  enounced  the  doctrine  of  the  immediate  perception  of 
external  reality,  or  the  consciousness  of  the  non-ego. 

Hamilton,  the  best  exponent  of  this  cardinal  doctrine  of  the  Scottish 
philosophy,  seemingly  the  only  means  of  escape  from  idealism,  states  it  thus  : 
"In  the  act  of  sensible  perception,  I  am  conscious  of  two  things  ;  of  myself 
as  the  perceiving  subject,  and  of  an  external  reality,  in  relation  with  my 
sense,  as  the  object  perceived.  Of  the  existence  of  both  these  things  I  am 
convinced  ;  because  I  am  conscious  of  knowing  each  of  them,  not  mediately 
in  something  else,  as  represented,  but  immediately  in  itself,  as  existing.  Of 
their  mutual  independence  I  am  no  less  convinced  ;  because  each  is  appre- 
hended equally  and  at  once,  in  the  same  indivisible  energy,  the  one  not  pre- 
ceding or  determining,  the  other  not  following  or  determined  ;  and  because 
each  is  apprehended  out  of,  and  in  direct  contrast  to,  the  other."  —  In  Beid, 
note  A,  §  1. 


146  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

But  this,  the  usual  statement  of  the  doctrine  immediate 
perception,  is  insufficient.  It  does  not  save  us  from  the  hiter 
forms  of  idealism  with  their  consequences  (§  136).  It  must 
also  be  established  that  I  immediately  perceive  body  in  its 
essential  and  objectively  existing  characters,  extension  and 
impenetrability;  that  it  possesses  these  in  the  same  manner 
as  they  are  perceived  by  me ;  that  thus  and  so  far  I  know 
the  thing  in  itself;  that  thus  and  so  far  noumena  become 
phenomena.  Such  is  the  conclusion  reached  at  the  close  of 
§  104.  If  it  be  accepted  as  established,  all  forms  of  idealism 
are  refuted. 

§  147.  Materialism,  as  opposed  to  dualism,  remains  to  be 
considered.  In  §§  99, 101,  it  is  maintained  that  in  perception, 
in  our  consciousness  of  material  phenomena,  in  the  action  of 
the  object  and  passion  of  the  subject,  there  is  an  opposition 
of  existence.  If  I  am  truly  conscious  of  this  opposition  of 
an  object,  then  I,  the  subject,  and  that  object  are  two  distinct 
beings,  and  I  immediately  perceive  or  am  conscious  of  the 
existence  of  a  positive  non-ego.  This  conclusion,  reached 
from  the  subjective  or  psychological  standpoint,  is  exj^ressed 
in  the  proposition :  The  immediate  object  in  perception  is 
consciously  not  I. 

In  §§  5,  21,  it  is  maintained  that  the  material  object  of 
consciousness  in  perception  is  enorganic  ;  that  it  is  the  excited 
sensory  or  brain  itself.  For  the  immediate  object  of  percep- 
tion must  be  its  proximate  cause.  Tracing  the  chain  of  cause 
and  effect  inward,  we  discover  that  the  final  physical  effect 
antecedent  to  consciousness  is  a  certain  excited  state  of  the 
sensory,  and  we  conclude  this  to  be  its  proximate  cause,  and 
iience  the  object  immediately  perceived.  This  conclusion, 
reached  from  an  objective  or  physiological  standpoint,  is 
expressed  in  the  proposition:  Brain  itself  is  the  immediate 
object  in  perception. 

Now  combining  the  subjective  fact  with  the  objective  fact, 
we  have :  The  immediate  object  in  perception  is  consciously 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  147 

not  I ;  but  brain  itself  is  the  immediate  object  in  perception ; 
hence,  brain  itself  is  consciously  not  I, 

If  this  conclusion,  which  necessarily  follows  from  the  prem- 
ises, be  true,  then  materialism  is  false ;  for  it  concludes  that 
brain,  the  material  substance  last  in  the  chain  of  physical 
causes,  and  so  standing  nearest  to  consciousness,  is  a  non-ego.^ 

From  this,  further,  it  is  an  immediate  inference  that  I 
myself  am  not  matter,  or,  in  other  words,  that  subjective 
phenomena  are  the  phenomena  of  an  immaterial  substance. 
If  this  be  allowed,  dualism  is  established.^ 

1  Might  it  not  be  said  that  some  centre  or  organ  of  the  brain  is  ego  (see 
close  of  §  139),  while  others  are  non-ego,  or  that  certain  molecular  centres 
constitute  the  ego,  while  adjacent  molecules  are  the  non-ego  ?  Hardly  ;  for 
how  there  could  be  that  "  extreme  contrast  or  antithesis  "  (Bain),  that  "  dif- 
ference transcending  all  other  differences"  (Spencer),  between  one  mass  or 
molecule  of  neural  matter,  and  another  mass  or  molecule  of  neural  matter, 
is  out  of  reason.    Yet  this  seems  the  only  alternative  hypothesis. 

The  opposed  views,  materialism  and  dualism,  may  be  crudely  illustrated 
as  follows:  "We  figure  to  ourselves  "a  double-faced  unity"  as  having  its 
sides,  subjective  and  objective,  concave  to  each  other,  thus  :  (s.  o.)  ;  but  a 
single- faced  duality  requires  an  antithesis  or  opposition  of  faces,  faces  con- 
vex to  each  other,  thus  :  s.)  (o.,  and  so,  necessarily,  faces  of  a  duality. 

2  Philosophers  quite  generally  rely  upon  the  unity  of  mind  (see  §  77)  in 
consciousness,  as  Apposed  to  the  plurahty  of  material  things,  for  proof  of 
dualism.  E.g.  Lotze  says  :  "  The  fact  of  the  unity  of  consciousness  compels 
us,  in  the  explanation  of  the  mtellectual  life,  to  put  in  the  place  of  visible 
substance  a  supersensuous  essence  as  supporter  of  the  phenomena,  and  to 
suppose  that  there  is  a  completely  indivisible  unity  in  the  subject  which 
exercises  the  comprehending  activity  of  consciousness."  —  Mikrokosmus,  i, 
72,  et  al. 

In  this  connection  let  us  quote  from  Ferrier,  as  follows:  "The  brain,  as 
an  organ  of  motion  and  sensation,  or  presentative  consciousness,  is  a  single 
organ  composed  of  two  halves  ;  the  brain  as  an  organ  of  ideation,  or  repre- 
sentative consciousness,  is  a  dual  organ,  each  hemisphere  being  complete  in 
itself.  When  one  hemisphere  is  removed  or  destroyed  by  disease,  motion 
and  sensation  are  abolished  unilaterally,  but  mental  operations  are  still 
capable  of  being  carried  on  in  their  completeness  through  the  agency  of  the 
one  hemisphere.  The  individual  who  is  paralyzed  as  to  sensation  and 
motion,  by  disease  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  brain,  is  not  paralyzed  men- 
tally, for  he  can  still  feel  and  will  and  think,  and  intelligently  comprehend 
with  the  one  hemisphere.     If  these  functions  are  not  carried  on  with  the 


148  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

§  148.  jNIind  and  brain,  then,  are  two  distinct  substances, 
having  no  quality  and  no  law  in  common,  yet  in  our  present 
state  they  are  so  connected  and  correlated  that  neither  is 
capable  of  its  functions  without  the  other,  actual  consciousness 
being  known  to  us  only  in  this  concrete  relation.^  In  sense- 
perception,  or  in  the  presentative  consciousness  in  general, 
the  cerebral  or  sensorial  excitement  is  the  cause  of  the  men- 
tal excitement ;  for  in  this  case  I  am  consciously  a  patient. 
In  voluntary  memory,  imagination  and  thought,  or  the 
representative  consciousness,  the  mental  is  the  cause  of  the 
sensorial  excitement  ;  for  in  this  case  I  am  consciously 
the  agent.  The  sensorium,  then,  is  the  place  where  physical 
force  directly  causes  certain  states  of  consciousness,  and 
where  mental  energy  enters  the  physical  sphere. 

§  149.  The  mind  cannot  be  assigned  to  any  bodily  organ 
as  its  seat.  The  famous  expression  "  seat  of  the  soul "  is 
utterly  meaningless  to  any  but  a  materialist.^     Locality  can 

same  vigor  as  before,  they  at  least  do  not  appear  to  suffer  in  respect  of  com- 
pleteness." —  Functions  of  the  Brain,  §  88.  Brown-Sequard  even  more  fully 
and  emphatically  maintains  that  we  are  possessed  of  two  distinct  brains.  See 
his  article  in  Tlie  Forum  for  Aug.  '90.  This  opinion  of  eminent  physiologists, 
compared  with  the  generally  admitted  unity  of  mind  in  consciousness  (^e.g.  the 
inability  to  carry  on  two  distinct  trains  of  reasoning  on  different  subjects  at 
once),  disfavors  their  hypothesis  of  materialism,  and  favors  that  of  a  single, 
regnant,  spiritual  entity. 

1  See  §  143.  It  may  be  asked :  Then,  at,  and  after  death,  what?  Psy- 
chology has  no  answer  to  that  question.  Philosophy,  perhaps,  has  grounds 
on  which  to  conjecture  an  after  life.  Revelation  only  brings  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light.  It  is  conceivable  that  disembodied  spirit  may  be  enabled  to 
perform  its  proper  functions,  but  it  should  be  observed  that,  at  the  resurrec- 
tion, "  God  giveth  it  a  body  even  as  it  pleaseth  him,  and  to  each  seed  a  body 
of  its  own.  ...  It  is  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body."  — 
1  Cor.  15:30,44. 

2  Aristotle  taught  that  the  soul  is  "  all  in  the  whole  and  all  in  every  part." 
—  De  Anima,  i,  6,  31.  Probably  he  means,  without  reference  to  body,  that 
the  entire  soul  thinks,  feels,  and  wills  (see  §  78),  a  strong  expression  of  its 
essential  unity  ;  for  in  the  same  treatise  he  excludes  place  and  motion  from 
the  exercises  of  mind.    The  formula  was  adopted,  however,  by  the  Neo- 


MIND  AND  MATTER.  149 

no  more  be  attributed  to  mind  than  extension ;  either  re- 
duces mind  to  matter.  Mind  in  itself  bears  no  rehition 
whatever  to  space.  To  ask  where  the  soul  is,  or  to  say  that 
it  is  here,  or  there,  or  that  it  pervades  the  brain,  or  the 
nervous  system,  is  sheer  nonsense.  If  it  have  place  either 
it  is  a  mathematical  point,  or  it  has  shape,  divisibility,  and 
size  ;  length,  breadth,  and  thickness ;  in  short,  is  matter. 
Hamilton  says  very  rightly :  "  It  has  not  always  been  no- 
ticed, even  by  those  who  deem  themselves  the  chosen  cham- 
pions of  the  immateriality  of  mind,  that  we  materialize  mind 
when  we  attribute  to  it  the  relations  of  matter.  Thus  we 
cannot  attribute  a  local  seat  to  the  soul  without  clothing  it 
with  the  material  properties  of  extension  and  place,  and 
those  who  suppose  this  seat  to  be  but  a  point  only  aggravate 
the  difficulty." 

platonist  Plotinus  to  express  the  relation  of  mind  to  body.  See  Ueberweg, 
Hist.  Phil.,  §§  68,  88.  It  was  so  used  by  Augustine  :  "  in  toto  tola  est.'"  — • 
De  Trinitate,  vi,  6.  This  application  is  approved  by  Hamilton  and  others. 
Meta.,  pp.  272,  356  ;  Mansel,  Meta.,  p.  86.  See  an  allusion  to  it  in  Milton, 
Samson  Agonistes,  line  90  sq.  Thus  interpreted,  the  formula  affirms  the 
omnipresence  of  mind  in  body,  and  has  been  adopted  in  theology  as  descrip- 
tive of  the  omnipresence  of  the  Deity. 

Others  affirm  a  "dynamical  presence  "  in  the  entire  organism.  So  Lewes : 
"The  position  of  the  centre  of  gi-avity  is  a  continually  shifting  point.  The 
attitude  of  the  personality  is  similar,  a  personal  centre."  —  Problems  of  Life 
and  Mind,  3d  series.  Anticipated  by  Chalybaus,  in  Zeitschr.  von  Ficlite, 
XX,  69. 

Others,  again,  regard  mind  or  the  soul  as  difiused  throughout  the  ner- 
vous system,  pervading  it.  So  Fischer,  Metaphysik,  Sitz  der  Scele,  §  8  ;  and 
Porter,  Hum.  IntelL,  §  129.  This  is  the  old  ghost  notion  belonging  properly 
to  the  primitive  races,  by  whose  crude  thinking  the  notion  of  a  strictly  imma- 
terial spirit  was  unattainable.     See  Taylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  387. 

Descartes  held  "the  seat  of  the  soul"  to  be  the  pineal  gland.  —  De  Pas- 
sionihus  Anima,  art.  31  sq.  Cf.  Meditationes,  ch.  6.  Laromiguiere  takes  a 
similar  view,  and  compares  the  soul  to  a  spider  at  the  centre  of  its  web.  — 
LeQons,  t.  ii,  p.  251  sq.  Descartes  elsewhere  says:  "I  have  no  need  of 
place."  —  On  3Iethod.  pt.  iv.  Says  Kant:  "The  soul  is  an  absolute  iinit, 
and  as  it  is  no  object  of  outer  sense,  it  is  immaterial ;  and,  though  it  is 
present  and  operates  in  space,  it  does  not  occupy  space,  and  has  no  special 
place  in  body."  —  Vorlesungen  ilber  Metaphysi/c,  p.  133. 


PART  THIRD.  ■ 
MEDIATE     KNO^ATLEDGE, 


CHAPTER   I. 

KEPKESENTATION. 

§  150.  Representation  is  mediate  cognition,  or  more  fully 
it  is  knowledge  of  one  or  more  remote  objects  through  a  present 
medium  which  resembles,  or  otherwise  stands  for  them. 

In  presentation  there  is  but  one  object  or  thing  known, 
and  this  object  is  intuitive.  In  representation  there  are 
two  objects ;  the  proximate  representing  medium  intuitively 
known  and  the  remote  represented  object-object  mediately 
known.  The  medium  is  either  some  external  object,  or  a 
mental  image,  a  subject-object.  In  either  case  this  medium 
or  representing  object,  considered  irrespectively  of  what  it 
represents,  is  itself  an  intuitive  presentative  object.  Rep- 
resentation, then,  is  a  presentation  with  something  super- 
added, namely,  the  reference  to  a  remote  object.  ^ 

In  the  presentative  consciousness,  a  thing  is  known  in  it- 
self.   This  knowledge  involves  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  the 

1  See  §  92  sq.  Immediate  and  mediate  cognition  should  not  be  confused 
with  immediate  and  mediate  inference.  The  one  is  psycliological,  the  other 
logical.  Mediate  cognition  is  through  a  presented  representing  medium, 
mediate  inference  is  through  a  middle  term  to  a  conclusion.  Yet  the  results 
of  logical  inference  are  always  entertained  representatively,  so  that  whatever 
is  inferred  is  also  mediately  cognized.  The  direct  rtference  of  an  object  to 
a  class,  a  logical  process,  is  sometimes  called  mediate  knowledge,  since  the 
object  then  becomes  known  through  or  by  means  of  its  relation  to  other 
objects.  Tills,  too,  should  be  set  clearly  apart. 
150 


EJ^PRESENTATION.  151 

object.  In  the  representative  consciousness,  a  thing  is  known 
in  or  through  something  not  itself.  This  knowledge  involves 
only  the  possibility  of  its  existence.  The  presented  object 
is,  therefore,  always  real,  the  represented  object  may  be  real 
or  ideal,  but  must  at  least  be  logically  possible,  ens  rationis, 
that  is,  must  involve  no  contradiction. 

In  presentation  the  object  is  present  to  me  here  and  now, 
in  representation  the  object-object  is  not  present  but  remote. 
The  one  is  knowlege  of  what  is  present  in  time ;  the  other, 
of  what  is  past.  An  immediate,  conscious  knowledge  of  what 
is  past  is  impossible ;  for  to  know  the  past  immediately,  it 
must  be  known  in  itself,  and  therefore  as  now  existing;  but 
the  past  is  a  negation  of  the  now  existing. 

Presentative  knowledge,  being  of  the  really  existing  here 
and  now,  is  original  and  certain ;  representative  knowledge, 
being  of  the  past,  or  the  possible,  the  not  here  or  not  now 
existing,  is  derived  and  uncertain.  The  degree  of  assurance 
or  belief  in  a  representation  may  be  any  but  the  liighest ;  it 
can  never  attain  the  certaintj^  of  intuition,  of  consciousness. 

Finally,  in  presentation  the  object  is  always  an  individual, 
either  an  external  thing  perceived,  or  a  state  of  mind  self- 
perceived.  In  representation  the  remote  object  may  be  either 
an  individual,  or  a  plurality  of  individuals  united  in  a  class, 
and  known  by  means  of  a  concept  or  general  notion.^ 

§  151.  Representative  cognition  is  distributed  into  three 
special  modes.     When  the  medium  represents  some  object 

1  Our  science  is  indebted  to  Hamilton  for  tlie  first  clear  and  distinct  state- 
ment of  this  fundamental  and  important  distinction.  See  especially  in  Beid, 
note  B,  §  1.  In  the  Leibnitzian  and  subsequent  philosophemes  of  Germany, 
the  term  representation  (Vurstellung,  which  is,  rather,  presentation)  is  used 
with  vague  generality  for  any  cognitive  act  considered  in  relation  to  the  thing 
known.  By  Kant  it  is  used  to  include,  as  species,  intuition,  perception,  and 
even  sensation,  as  well  as  memory  and  thought.  His  ambiguities  and  obscur- 
ities arise  largely  from  lack  of  the  stated  distinction.  Hamilton,  however, 
went  so  far,  on  the  other  hand,  as  to  identify  representation  with  imagi- 
nation, thus  excluding  even  memory.  See  Meta.,  Lee.  32.  In  accord  with 
good  authority,  we  take  it  to  be  generic,  inclusive  of  memory  and  thought. 


162  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

previously  known,  which  is  thus  recognized,  the  act  is  called 
a  memory.  When  the  medium  is  a  factitious  mental  image 
representing  what  is  logically  2:)ossible  but  merely  ideal,  the 
act  is  called  an  imagination.  When  the  medium  represents 
an  abstract  unity,  or  a  plurality  reduced  to  unity  in  a  general 
notion  or  concept,  the  act  is  called  a  thought. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  is  evident  that  representation 
is  conditioned  on  presentation.  We  add  that  each  of  the 
specific  powers  of  rei^resentation  conditions  that  following 
it  in  the  order  named;  memory  conditions  imagination,  and 
imagination  conditions  thought;  and  all  are  conditioned  on 
pure  reason.  But  let  us  recall  that  no  given  total  mental  act 
or  state  consists  of  any  one  of  these  alone  (§  78).  It  is  always 
an  intricate  complexus,  in  which  these  several  specific  activi- 
ties may  be  distinguished  as  factors,  and  comprises,  moreover, 
feeling,  desire,  and  volition. 

The  distinction  between  the  presentative  and  the  represent- 
ative faculties  is  not  identical  with  the  familiar  distinction 
between  sense  and  intellect.  The  intellectual  faculties  in- 
clude pure  reason,  sometimes  called  pure  intellect,  vov<;,  and 
this  we  have  classed  under  presentation.^ 

§  152.  As  the  medium  is  the  characteristic  feature  of  rep- 
resentative states,  let  us  consider  it  more  particularly.  It 
may  be  either  an  object  perceived,  or  a  mental  image  of  an 
object  of  perception. 

That  objects  perceived  are  often  representative  is  an  obvious 
and  familiar  fact.  The  portrait  of  my  friend  represents  him, 
and  serves  as  a  medium  by  and  through  which  I  contemplate 
his  actual  appearance.  All  jiictures  are  thus  representative; 
so  also  the  drama,  and  the  fine  arts  generally,  indeed  whatever 
is  imitative.^    It  is  not  that  an  imitation  is  merely  suggestive, 

1  See  §  7G.  Intellect,  from  inter,  among,  between,  and  legere,  ledum, 
to  gather,  to  collect,  to  read.  It  apprehends  more  than  is  seen ;  it  reads 
between  the  lines. 

-  The  literal  observance  by  the  Saracens  of  the  second  commandment  gave 


REPllESENTATION.  153 

and  on  the  principle  of  association  directs  our  thoughts.  It 
does  this  no  doubt  in  the  first  moment;  but  instantly  it  be- 
comes representative,  and  tlu'ougli  it  we  contemplate  a  remote 
object.  Again  in  studying  geometry,  we  di-aw  a  figure  on 
the  blackboard.  The  proposition  demonstrated  by  means  of 
the  figure  is  true,  not  of  the  thing  perceived,  but  of  what  it 
represents,  that  is,  of  all  conceivable  figures  of  that  kind ;  for 
in  the  demonstration  we  use  only  such  properties  as  are  com- 
mon to  all.  We  contemplate  in  the  figure  perceived  these 
properties,  and  through  it  we  think  what  is  true  of  all  mem- 
bers of  the  class.  This  mode  of  representation  may  be  called 
the  mimetic  or  exemplar. 

But  in  order  to  representative  cognition  it  is  not  necessary 
that  the  medium  should  resemble  the  object  it  represents ;  it 
may  be  merely  symbolic.^  The  national  flag  represents  one's 
country  or  government,  and  excites  patriotic  feeling.  A 
crown  represents  royalty,  a  sceptre  authority,  a  throne  power, 
a  triangle  the  Trinity.  Algebraic  symbols  and  signs  repre- 
sent certain  quantities  and  their  relations.  Words,  either 
seen  or  heard,  symbolize  things,  and  through  the  word  we 
think  the  thing.  So  also  signals  of  all  kinds.  There  is  a 
wide  difference  between  portraiture  or  descriptive  art,  and  the 
symbolic  art  which  produces,  for  example,  a  painting  of  Jus- 
tice or  a  statue  of  Psyche ;  but  it  is  plain  that  each  equally 
furnishes  media  for  representative  cognition. 

rise  to  a  style  of  decorative  art  not  representative,  and  called,  after  them, 
the  arabesque.  Like  music,  it  does  not  mean  anything,  but  is  in  itself 
beautiful. 

That  is  simply  negative  ;  but  what  is  to  misrepresent  ?  Shylock,  posed 
as  a  tyi^ical,  representative  Jew,  is  a  misrepresentation.  So  say  the  Jews. 
The  portrait  is  not  a  likeness.  It  was  drawn  by  the  master  when  there  were 
no  Jews  in  England.  It  was  the  outcome  of  tradition,  .spite,  and  tyranny. 
Shakespeare  never  saw  a  Jew.  In  like  manner  they  denounce  Isaac  of  York 
as  a  misrepresentation.  They  claim  Sir  Moses  Montefiore  and  Baron  Hirsck 
as  true  representatives  of  the  modern  race. 

1  Ophelia's  flowers  were  representative;  but  Peter  Bell's  primrose  "a 
yellow  primrose  was  to  him,  and  nothing  more." 


154  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

§  153.  The  medium  in  representation  may  also  be,  and 
usually  is,  a  mental  image,  an  idea.  The  power  which  mind 
has  of  forming-  mental  images  of  its  past  experiences  has  often 
been  mentioned.  It  belongs  to  the  essential  constitution  of 
mind,  is  an  element  in  all  intellectual  exercise,  and  a  thor- 
ough knowledge  of  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  in  psy- 
chology. The  power  is  unique,  peculiar,  and  therefore  inde- 
finable and  indescribable,  but  every  one  is  familiar  with  it  in 
his  own  consciousness. 

I  see  a  book  lying  before  me,  and  apprehend  it  merely  as. 
an  object  of  perception.  Now  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  no  longer 
literally  see  the  book,  it  is  not  now  depicted  on  my  retina, 
but  I  have  a  mental  image  of  it,  I  still  see  it  with  "  my  mind's 
eye."  Yesterda}^  I  was  angry.  To-day  I  muse,  I  meditate 
upon  my  anger.  I  form  an  image  of  it  which  I  contemplate. 
I  have  just  read  a  vivid  description  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 
I  reflect  upon  it,  and  have  formed  by  aid  of  the  description 
an  image  of  the  scene,  its  exact  military  movements  inter- 
weaving with  its  noisy  confusion  and  horror.  Our  minds  are 
constantly  occupied,  or  rather  engaged,  with  such  images 
or  ideas  representative  of  remote  objects.-^ 

The  mental  image  has  no  existence  apart  from  the  mental 

1  The  word  idea,  introduced  into  philosophy  by  Plato,  worthy  of  all  honor 
because  of  its  own  soft  beavity,  its  rich  setting,  its  antiquity  and  its  paternity, 
has  been  and  is  greatly  abused,  being  most  frequently  mispronounced  by  the 
vulgar,  and  constantly  misapplied  by  the  specialist.  See  its  lamentable 
history  detailed  by  Hamilton,  in  lieid,  note  G,  p.  025  sq. ;  and  in  Discnssio)is, 
p.  75,  note.  Cf.  Trench,  EnriJish  Past  and  Present,  p.  154.  Hamilton  pro- 
nounces it  unlitted  for  scientific  use.  But  we  cannot  spare  it,  and  shall 
use  it  legitimately,  as  strictly  synonymous  with  mental  image,  and  so  repre- 
senting an  individual.  Let  it  not  be  confused  with  the  concept,  which  also 
is  representative,  but  is  a  general  notion,  i.e.  applicable  to  a  plurality  of 
individuals. 

Seneca  marks  the  distinction  between  i54a  and  eUos  thus :  When  a  sculp- 
tf)r  hews  a  statue  of  Venus,  she  is  his  idia ;  the  statue  is  the  eiSos,  the  idol,  or 
marble  image.  The  I8^a  is  out  of  and  before  the  work,  the  eJSos  is  in  the 
work.  — Epist.  58,  §§  15-18.     So  Milton  : 

"  God  saw  liis  works  were  good, 
Auswering  hie  fair  ideu." 


REPRESENTATION.  155 

act.  I  image  a  centaur.  What  is  this  centaur?  It  has  no 
externally  real,  but  only  an  ideal  existence.  It  is  only  an 
image,  and  as  such  is  an  indivisible  mode  of  mind.  The 
cognition  and  its  object  are  in  fact  identical.  As  relative  to 
the  mind  knowing,  it  is  called  a  cognition,  an  act  of  knowl- 
edge, an  exercise  of  the  imaging  power,  etc. ;  as  relative  to 
the  externally  unreal  but  conceivable  possibility  which  it 
represents,  it  is  called  a  representation,  a  subject-object,  an 
image,  an  idea,  etc.  But  the  act  and  the  object  are  the 
same. 

§  154.  We  say  these  images  are  formed  by  the  mind,  are 
of  the  mind,  etc.  To  say,  as  is  quite  common,  that  they  are 
in  the  mind  is  misleading.  We  are  very  apt  to  think  of  them 
as  literal  images,  as  little  miniatures  or  models  or  pictures 
of  the  things  they  represent,  very  like  them  on  a  small  scale, 
and  located  in  the  mind  or  brain,  entirely  apart  from  their 
originals.  Images,  however,  being  mental  modes,  neither 
shape,  nor  size,  nor  place  can  be  attributed  to  them.  The 
shape,  size,  and  place  they  seem  to  have  are  identical  with 
those  of  the  thing  represented.  Where  is  my  image  of  the 
book  on  which  I  shut  my  eyes  ?  Out  there  on  the  table. 
Where  is  my  image  of  Waterloo?  In  Belgium.  Where  is 
my  image  of  the  celestial  sphere  ?  In  the  heavens,  and  as 
vast  as  they.  Where  is  my  image  of  yesterday's  anger? 
Nowhere.  It  is  referred  to  past  time,  but  not  to  place, 
since  no  mental  affection  can  have  locality.  It  is  obvious 
that  figure,  size,  place,  etc.,  are  qualities  of  the  thing  imaged 
and  not  of  the  image  itself.  They  are  merely  represented, 
as  truly  so  as  the  color,  material,  etc.,  of  the  originals.  We 
might  as  well  say  that  the  image  has  actual  color,  as  to  say 
that  it  has  actual  place. 

§  155.  Mental  images  are  always  sensuous,  that  is,  they 
represent  objects  of  sense,  external  or  internal,  given  in 
some   former    experience.       They   consist   of,    or   are    con- 


156  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

structed,  so  to  speak,  from  materials  collected  by  experience. 
In  this  view,  we  may  say  that  the  image  re-presents,  that 
is,  presents  again,  what  has  already  been  given  or  presented ; 
so  that  what  was  formerly  cognized  is  now  recognized.  I 
cannot  image  what  I  never  experienced.  Even  the  most 
bizarre  imaginings  are  combined,  like  the  centaur,  out  of 
fragments  of  experiences.  I  cannot  image  a  logical  absurd- 
ity.    A  biangular  figure  is  non-sense.^ 

Moreover,  a  thing  is  always  represented  as  the  object  of  the 
sense  originally  perceiving  it.  The  sound  of  a  trumpet  we 
represent  as  assailing  the  ear;  its  brazen  color,  as  dazzling 
the  eye ;  its  surface,  as  smooth  to  the  touch,  etc.  These 
images  of  various  percepts  combine,  however,  in  one  com- 
plex image,  in  a  single  representation  of  a  thing.  It  should 
be  noted  that  though  visual  images  are  so  constantly  present 
and  so  vivid  that  the  language  of  this  subject  is  largely 
derived  from  them,  yet  we  form  as  well  images  of  sounds,  of 
tastes,  of  odors,  of  tactile  and  muscular  impressions,  of  vis- 
ceral pleasure  and  pain,  and  of  oljjects  of  self-perception.- 

§  156.  Images  are  always  representative.  An  absolute 
image  is  a  contradiction,  for  the  image  is  essentially  relative. 
It  always  stands  for,  or  is  vicarious  of,  a  remote  object,  one 
either  real,  or  at  least  logically  possible. 

Representation  by  an  image,  like  representation  by  an 
object,  has  two  modes ;  the  image  is  either  an  imitation  or  a 
symbol.  I  can  represent  a  horse  by  an  image  of  one  stand- 
ing before  me,  an  image  of  myself  as  an  observer  being  per- 
haps always  a  part  of  the  total  representation.  I  can  image 
a  triangle  representing  primarily  a  real  figure,  and  second- 

i  At  first  glance  these  statements  may  seem  inconsistent  •with  the  theory 
of  pure  ideas  already  discussed  at  length,  pt.  ii,  chs.  0,  7.  Hut  it  should  he 
observed  that  by  pure  idea  is  meant  an  idea  of  a  pure  or  non-sensuous 
object,  e.g.  space.  Such  an  object  can  be  entertained  only  symbolically, 
through  or  by  means  of  some  sensuous,  representative,  mental  image  or  idea. 
See  especially  §  1.'>1. 


EEPEESENTATION.  157 

arily  all    possible   triangles.     In    these  cases  the  image  is 
ideally  mimetic  or  exemplar. 

I  cannot  thus  image  the  Chinese  Empire ;  it  is  too  com- 
plex. I  cannot  image  virtue,  or  any  other  abstraction  not  a 
percept  of  sense.  But  I  entertain  thege  cognitions  by  means 
of  images  symbolical  of  them.  The  symbol  may  be  merely 
the  name,  which  I  image  as  heard,  or  as  seen  in  print,  which 
then  represents  primarily  the  real  sound  or  print,  and  second- 
arily the  thing  or  things  of  which  it  is  the  name.^ 

1  "The  product  of  the  representative  power,  or  the  object  which  the  mind 
creates  and  apprehends  in  memory  and  imagination,  has  been  the  occasion 
of  much  confusion  of  thought,  and  not  a  Uttle  controversy.  Scarcely  any 
single  topic  has  been  more  vexed  in  ancient  or  medifeval  philosophy,  than 
the  nature  of  ideas  or  representative  images.  As  the  term  idea  in  the  Eng- 
lish language  is  applied  to  the  widest  possible  range  of  objects,  so  these  con- 
troversies either  include  or  trench  upon  almost  every  possible  question  in 
metaphysical  philosophy,  beginning  with  the  images  or  species,  material  or 
quasi-material,  that  were  supposed  to  be  given  off  from  every  object  perceived 
[see  Ueberweg,  Hist,  of  Phil.,  §  25],  and  ending  with  those  eternal  ideas 
which  Plato  and  his  followers  hold  to  be  the  archetypes  of  all  created  beings, 
and  which  they  even  hypostatized  into  actual  and  almost  divine  agents. 
These  controversies  and  questions  respect  ideas  of  perception,  of  memory,  of 
imagination,  and  of  thought  —  ideas  a  posteriori,  or  ideas  of  experience,  and 
ideas  a  priori,  or  ideas  that  are  original  and  necessary.  But  to  all  these  the 
ideas  of  the  memory  and  imagination  have  a  very  close  relation,  and  hence  a 
just  determination  of  their  real  nature  will  go  very  far  toward  an  accurate 
understanding  and  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the  questions  and  controversies 
which  concern  the  remainder."  — Porter,  Hum.  Intdl.,  §  224. 


'^   OF   THT^ 


158  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER   II. 

MEDIATE   PERCEPTION. 

§  157.  Perception  taken  strictly  is  immediate.  Each  sense 
has  its  special  percept,  the  inner  sensory  excited  in  a  special 
manner.  Sight  and  touch  make  a  conscious  reference  of 
their  percepts  to  space,  thus  furnishing  a  consciousness  of 
extension.  In  resistance  to  voluntary  locomotion  is  given 
the  existence  of  an  outer  world.  These  results  of  the  anal}-- 
sis  of  perception  are  in  themselves  very  meagre,  but  they 
constitute  the  sufficient  foundation  of  knowledofe.  From 
them  and  their  combinations,  we  make  inferences,  and  com- 
bine inferences  with  inferences,  and  thus  attain  a  detailed 
knowledge  of  the  material  universe. 

This  inferred  knowledge  is  in  certain  cases  so  clear,  exact, 
and  reliable  that  it  seems  to  be  direct  conscious  perception. 
We  seem  to  see  directly  the  house  out  yonder,  to  hear  the 
bell  and  the  birds,  to  smell  the  flowers,  to  feel  the  fanning 
breeze,  and  the  firm  ground  beneath  our  feet.^  But  each  of 
these  is  a  complex  total  involving  a  percept  as  one  element, 
all  other  elements  being  the  results  of  inference.  Since  the 
percept  is  a  vivid  element,  and  since  the  whole  is  usually 
esteemed  simple,  it  is  commonly  spoken  of  as  a  thing  per- 
ceived.^ We  should  discriniinate,  however,  between  the 
primary  percept  and  the  inferred  matters  associated  -with  it. 
These  supplementary  cognitions  are  mere  images  or  mental 

1  "This  universal  and  primary  opinion  of  all  men  is  soon  destroyed  by 
the  slightest  philosophy.  Thi!  table  which  we  see  seems  to  lUniinish  as  we 
remove  further  from  it ;  but  the  real  table  which  exists  independently  of  us 
suffers  no  alteration  ;  it  is,  therefore,  nothing  but  its  image  which  is  present- 
to  the  mind."  —  IIijmk,  Essays^  vol.  ii,  p.  154. 

'  See  §  97  and  its  notes. 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  159 

representations,  and  may  fairly  be  called  represented  per- 
ceptions, or  secondary  perceptions,  or  still  better,  mediat(! 
perceptions.  The  process  by  which  they  are  obtained  I,; 
usually  termed  the  education  of  sense,  and  hence  they  have 
also  been  called  acquired  perceptions,  which  name  is  some- 
times, though  inaccurately,  understood  to  imply  that  the 
senses  acquire  power  to  perceive  more  than  their  original 
percepts. 

§  158.  Let  us  take  a  simple  example,  and  then  attempt  a 
general  explanation.  An  orange,  a  thing  we  will  suppose 
new  to  me,  is  placed  in  my  hand.  I  perceive  by  handling 
that  it  has  a  rough  surface,  that  it  is  spherical,  solid,  and 
heavy.  By  sight  I  simultaneously  perceive  a  yellow  color, 
mottled  and  shaded,  having  a  circular  figure.  Now  I  iden- 
tify the  rough  sphere  with  the  colored  circle ;  for  as  I  move 
it  with  my  hand,  the  pictorial  aspect  changes  concomitantly 
with  the  tactile  and  muscular  impressions,  and  I  infer  that 
they  have  a  common  cause.  What  I  see  is  what  I  handle ; 
and  I  not  only  attribute  the  perceived  color  to  it  as  the 
cause,  but  I  project  the  color  upon  that  outer  thing.  So 
also,  what  I  smell  or  taste  is  the  same  thing  that  I  handle 
and  see. 

If  next  day  I  should  see  on  my  table  a  circular  yellow 
figure,  mottled  and  shaded,  I  would  recognize  the  figure  and 
color,  and  attribute  to  the  thing  sphericity,  solidity,  weight, 
roughness,  flavor,  etc.  Combining  what  is  presented  by 
sight  with  what  is  thus  represented  by  images,  I  would 
recognize  the  whole  as  an  orange ;  and  because  the  visual 
percept  is  the  given  and  most  obtrusive  element  in  this  com- 
plex cognition,  I  would  say  I  see  an  orange. 

§  159.  Now,  in  general :  That  the  change  in  my  conscious- 
ness in  case  of  a  single  percept,  is  caused  by  something, 
this  I  intuitively  know.  When  two  or  more  percepts  of 
different  senses   occur,   when  the   impressions   are   simulta- 


160  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

neous  and  their  variations  concomitant,  I  inf  erentially  attrib- 
ute these  imjDressions  to  the  same  thing  as  their  cause, 
regarding  them  as  qualities  of  that  thing,  that  is,  as  powers 
belonging  to  it,  and  capable  of  producing  these  effects  in 
me.  Thus  I  assemble  upon  one  thing  or  substance  as  one 
object  of  cognition  the  various  qualities  perceived,  and  it 
becomes  as  completely  known  as  is  jDossible  by  sense. 

Secondly,  in  case  of  a  similar  set  of  experiences,  I  infer 
inductively  that  the  cause  is  the  same  or  similar,  and  this 
constitutes  recognition.  Soon  I  go  so  far  as  to  hazard  the 
general  induction  that  whenever  I  experience  such  effects 
they  arise  from  the  same  or  a  similar  cause. 

Thirdly,  having  observed  that  a  certain  set  of  qualities 
accompanj^  each  other,  I  regard  each  as  characteristic  of  the 
thing.  Now  when  any  one  is  ex]3erienced  as  a  percept,  I 
infer  the  presence  in  the  thing  of  the  rest,  and  supply  them 
to  it  by  a  mental  image. 

Finally,  these  experiences  and  inferences  having  been 
often  repeated,  the  several  qualities  become  associated  in  the 
mind  with  each  other,  so  that  upon  the  presentation  of  any 
one  of  the  distinctive  percepts,  the  rest  are  suggested 
immediately,  that  is,  without  any  renewal  of  the  process  of 
inference,  and  the  complementary  image  or  images  are  at 
once  supplied. 

Such,  in  general,  is  the  genesis  of  mediate  perceiDtions. 
They  are  evidently  logical  judgments  or  thoughts,  retained 
in  memory  by  association  with  percepts.  Therefore,  it  should 
be  particularly  observed  that  mediate  perception  is  not  at 
all  a  distinct,  special  faculty  of  mind,  but  a  combined  exercise 
of  several  faculties. 

§  160.  It  should  further  be  observed  that  our  senses, 
strictly  taken,  never  deceive  us.  When  we  consciously  per- 
ceive a  color,  a  sound,  an  odor,  it  is  impossible  even  to  con- 
ceive that  we  have  mistaken  sometliing  else  for  color,  for 
sound,  for  odor.     A  jaundiced  man  seems  to  sec  all   thino-s 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  161 

tinged  with  yellow.  We  may  easily  convince  him  that  the 
tilings  are  not  yellow,  but  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  doubt 
that  he  perceives  j^ellow.  A  ringing  in  the  ears  we  may 
take  for  a  distant  bell.  We  mistake  about  the  bell,  but  not 
about  a  sense-perception  of  sound.  ^ 

But  the  mediate  process  of  acquisition  described  above 
involves  at  least  one  inference  from  effect  to  cause.  This 
induction  is  liable  to  the  fallacy  called  "plurality  of  causes." 
A  variety  of  causes  may  .produce  indistinguishable  effects. 
The  sound  by  which  I  am  affected,  and  which  I  judge  to  be 
caused  by  a  steam- whistle,  may  in  fact  be  caused  by  a  trumpet. 
The  doubtful  induction  is  a  source  of  error  or  delusion  in  our 
acquired  perceptions,  and  we  pronounce  our  senses  untrust- 
worthy. It  is  not,  however,  the  sense  that  errs,  but  the 
judgment.  Now  in  every  case  of  illusion,  and  indeed  when- 
ever delusion  is  conceivably  possible,  the  matter  is  not  given, 
but  judged;  is  not  presented,  but  represented.^ 

§  161.  Let  us  remark  and  illustrate  the  final  step  in  the 
genesis  described  above  (§  159).  When  a  number  of  percepts 
have  become  closely  linked  by  association,  the  experience  of 

1  See  Leibnitz,  quoted  in  §  69,  note.  Says  Kant :  "  Wahrlieit  oder  Schein 
sind  nicht  im  Gegenstande,  so  feme  er  angescliaut  wird,  sondern  im  Urtheile 
iiber  deuselben,  so  feme  er  gedaclit  wird.  Man  kann  also  zwar  richtig  sagen 
dass  die  Sinne  nicht  irren,  aber  niclit  daruin,  weil  sie  jederzeit  riclitig  ur- 
tiieilen,  sondern  weil  sie  gar  nicht  urtheilen."  —  Kritik  der  r.  V.,  p.  238. 

2  Delusion  believes  something  false  to  be  true  ;  it  attributes  to  a  fallacious 
appearance  objective  reality.  Illusion  occurs  when  one  is  not  actually  de- 
ceived, yet  cannot  resist  an  impression  known  to  be  false  in  fact,  and  a  mere 
subjective  affection.  Delusions  are  what  Bacon  calls  idols  of  the  den  (idola 
specus^  §  220).  A  deep  pool  of  clear  water  looked  at  aslant  seems  shallow, 
and  if  I  take  it  to  be  shallow,  this  is  a  delusion.  My  walking- cane  put  half- 
way and  aslant  in  the  water  seems  crooked  ;  but  since  I  know  it  to  be 
straight,  this  is  merely  an  illusion.  The  pretty  story  told  by  Tliny  of  the 
contest  between  Zeuxis  and  Parrhasius  recites  cases  of  delusion.  The  mirage 
of  the  desert  is  to  the  ignorant  a  delusion,  to  the  informed  an  illusion. 
Dreams  are  delusive.  Hallucinations  are  abnormal,  and  either  illusive  or 
delusive  ;  e.g.  a  crazy  beggar  thinks  himself  a  king,  and  in  his  rags  sees 
robes.    See  below,  §  195,  note. 


162  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

any  one  seems  to  cany  with  it  the  experience  of  the  others. 
Thus  one  sense  apparently  acquires  power  to  perceive  quali- 
ties of  objects  that  are  originally  given  by  other  senses.  For 
example,  an  orange  looks  rough,  an  apple  smooth,  gloss 
being  an  accepted  sign  of  smoothness.^  Obviously  this 
apparent  transfer  of  percepts  is  a  mediate  judgment,  a  given 
percept  being  a  sign  of  the  presence  of  other  perceptible 
qualities,  which  are  accordingly  represented.  To  discrimi- 
nate in  a  total  complex  cognition  the  elements  that  are 
strictly  presentative  from  those  that  are  representative,  we 
make  use  of  the  criterion  described  in  §  69. 

§  162.  It  would  be  needless  to  consider  the  subject  further, 
were  it  not  that  there  are  certain  cognitions  relative  to  space 
and  extension  in  space,  and  given  only  in  connection  with 
voluntary  locomotion,  which  present  peculiarities  and  diffi- 
culties requiring  special  examination. 

1  Strictly,  I  do  not  see,  but  judge  them  to  be  rough  and  smooth,  and  these 
qualities  are  represented  as  felt  by  the  fingers.  See  §  155,  second  paragraph. 
In  such  case  sight  seems  to  have  acquired  power  to  perceive  qualities  known 
only  to  touch.  On  the  other  hand,  those  who  have  become  blind  are  some- 
times able  to  distingui.sh  the  colors  of  cloth  by  touch.  Those  born  blind, 
however,  know  nothing  about  color.  Locke  tells  of  one  who  on  handling 
scarlet  cloth  said  it  felt  to  him  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  —  Essay,  bk.  ii, 
ch.  4,  §  11.  Beethoven,  after  he  became  quite  deaf,  would  play  the  organ  in 
the  dark,  and  greatly  enjoy  the  music.  By  touch,  or  rather  by  manipulation, 
he  seemed  to  perceive  sound. 

Further  illustrations :  When  I  perceive  a  certain  fragrance  that  suggests  a 
rose,  T  instantly  supply  by  an  image  its  visual  aspect,  and  perhaps  a  tactile 
feeling  of  its  thorns.  Without  discriminating  what  is  presented  and  what 
represented,  I  say  I  smell  a  rose.  So  we  judge  of  viands  by  smell.  I  do  not 
see  the  table  before  me,  but  a  colored  figure  which  is  to  me  the  sign  of  a 
table.  The  mountain  path  looks  wearisome,  a  nuiscular  percept  which  I 
represent  in  connection  with  the  visual  aspect  of  the  path,  and  judge  to 
belong  to  it.  We  connect  many  objects  with  the  sounds  they  emit.  The 
quality  of  a  musical  note  enables  us  to  recognize  the  instrument,  and  we 
supply  a  visual  image  of  it.  We  recognize  animals  by  their  cries,  and  a 
friend  by  his  voice,  cough,  or  footfall.  By  tapping  a  barrel,  we  measure  its 
contents.  By  their  ring  we  discriminate  stone,  wood,  glass,  iron,  pottery, 
and  also  base  from  good  coin,  when  in  tJiis  case  no  sense  except  hearing 
would  perceive  a  difference. 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  163 

We  have  found  that  none  of  the  senses  proper  give  us  a 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  extra-organic  or  outer  thino-s, 
and  concluded  that  this  is  given  only  in  connection  with  the 
tactile  and  muscular  senses  by  voluntary  locomotion  or 
manipulation  (§§  105,  106).  It  follows  that  our  knowledge 
of  outer  things  as  they  really  exist  in  space,  as  to  their  num- 
ber, shape,  direction,  size,  distance,  locality,  etc.,  can  be 
given  directly  only  by  or  in  connection  with  the  same 
energy. 

Since  a  percept  can  be  represented  only  in  the  sense  origi- 
nally giving  it,  e.g.  a  color  as  seen,  a  sound  as  heard,  etc. 
(§  155),  so  also  these  cognitions  arising  in  manipulation  or 
voluntary  locomotion  can  be  truly  represented  only  as  in 
that  act.  Nevertheless  they  seem  to  be  direct  perceptions 
of  sense.  Sight  being  keenly  perceptive  and  also  cognizant 
of  extension,  they  are  habitually  associated  with  its  exercise. 
We  shall  therefore  examine  them  more  especially,  as  mediate 
or  acquired  perceptions  of  sight. 

§  163.  The  real  unity  or  plurality  of  objects  in  space  is 
known  directly  and  originally  only  in  manipulation.  We 
commonly  suj^pose  that  we  directly  see  a  single  object  to 
be  one  thing.  What  we  consciously  see  is  only  a  colored 
figure  on  the  field  of  view.  But  things  may  not  be  as  they 
appear  in  this  field.  A  single  thing  seen  by  one  eye,  may 
be  apparently  two.i  Also  the  rays  from  two  or  more  objects 
may  be  united  so  that  we  shall  see  but  one.  If  we  doubt, 
we  handle. 

In  binocular  vision  a  single  object  is  seen  as  one,  although 
there  are  two  retinal  pictures  of  it.  This  is  not  because  it 
is  one,  but  because  the  double  picture  is  associated  with  the 


1  If  we  make  two  pin-holes  in  a  card  less  than  one-twelfth  of  an  inch 
apart,  and,  closing  one  eye,  look  through  them  with  the  other  at  a  pin,  we 
see  two  pins.  Iceland  spar  doubles  a  hair-line  ;  and  the  well-known  "  multi- 
plying glass  "  makes  many  coins  of  one. 


164  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

judgment  of  one  thing,  known  to  be  one  by  handling.  ^  On 
the  contrary,  the  stereoscope  presents  two  objects,  but  they 
seem  to  be  one,  because  the  lenses  cause  the  pictures  to  fall 
on  associated  parts  of  the  retinas.  Whenever  we  have  doubt 
of  physical  integrity  or  suspect  duplicity,  we  take  the  mat- 
ter in  hand,  and  test  it  by  a  grasp.  Optical  illusions  in 
general  show  that  the  unity  or  plurality  of  things  is  not  pre- 
sented in  vision,  but  represented  in  manipulation. ^ 

§  164.  The  geometrical  solidity  or  shape  of  outer  things 
is  not  directly  perceived,  but  only  judged  of  by  the  eye. 

'  Wheatstone  holds  that  unity  in  binocular  vision  is  an  inference  from  the 
mental  combination  of  the  two  retinal  pictures.  Some  physiologists  have 
explained  it  by  supposing  a  special  provision  in  the  structure  of  the  organ. 
See  MuUer,  Phi/sioJogy,  pp.  1197,  1205  ;  also  Carpenter,  Physiology,  p.  917. 
Lotze  explains  it  by  his  theory  of  local  signs.  Various  views  are  held  by  the 
physiological  psychologists.     See  Ladd,  Elements  of,  p.  420  sq. 

If  the  forefinger  be  held  vertically  a  foot  from  the  eyes,  and  a  pencil  a  foot 
beyond,  then  on  looking  at  the  linger  I  see  also  two  pencils,  and  vice  versa. 
If  I  squint,  all  objects  depicted  on  "  the  yellow  spot"  {macula  lutea,  the 
central  and  most  sensitive  portion  of  the  retina)  seem  double.  One  whose 
strabismus  has  been  corrected  has  double  vision.  For  example,  every  road 
forks  before  him.  The  illusions  continue  until  gradually  he  forms  new  judg- 
ments and  habits  of  sight.  Tliese  facts  seem  favorable  to  Wheatstone's  view, 
which  we  have  adopted.  On  squinting,  see  Helmholtz,  Physio.  Optik.,  Fr. 
tr.,  p.  882. 

2  Nor  is  the  i;nity  of  an  outer  thing  discernible  by  touch  alone.  A  pea 
touched  by  the  forefinger  certainly  seems  single,  just  as  when  seen  with  one 
eye.  If  touched  by  the  fore  and  middle  fingers,  it  still  seems  one,  as  when 
seen  with  both  eyes,  and  for  the  similar  reason  that  simultaneous  contact 
with  the  adjacent  sides  of  these  fingers  has  long  been  an  accepted  sign  of 
a  single  body.  Now  let  the  middle  finger  be  crossed  over  the  forefinger,  and 
the  pea  placed  between  their  tips  ;  I  distinctly  perceive  two,  as  when  I  siiuint, 
and  for  the  similar  reason  that  contact  with  the  opposite  sides  of  those  fingers 
usually  indicate  two  things.  The  impression  is  aided,  no  doubt,  by  the  fact 
that  surfaces  concave  to  each  other  are  a  usual  sign  of  unity,  and  surfaces 
convex  to  each  other  (apparently  so  in  this  case)  are  a  usual  sign  of  duplex- 
ity.  This  childish  illusion,  which  interested  and  was  discussed  by  Aristotle, 
shows  that  unity  is  not,  as  commonly  supposed,  directly  perceived  by  touch. 
It  is  inferred,  a  mediate  perception,  given  originally  in  voluntary  handling, 
sometimes  called  active  touch. 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  165 

The  field  of  view  may  be  regarded  as  a  plane  at  right  angles 
to  the  optic  axis.  That  the  eye  perceives  the  two  dimen- 
sions of  figure  as  projected  on  this  plane  is  obvious,  but  we 
must  remember  that  this  figure  is  determined  by  the  retinal 
picture,  and  is  not  at  all  the  superficial  figure  of  any  outer 
thing  (§  19).  A  circle  seen  aslant  depicts  an  ellipse,  and  it 
is  an  ellipse  that  is  actually  seen,  and  not  a  circle,  though 
we  may  mediately  judge  it  to  be  in  reality  a  circle.  The 
real  figure  of  the  outer  thing  is  known  originally  only  by 
manipulation.  1 

The  third  dimension,  since  it  does  not  at  all  exist  in  the 
picture,  the  eye  does  not  find  there;  and  though  we  may 
seem  to  see  it,  yet  is  it  merely  inferred  from  certain  signs, 
certain  pictorial  aspects,  which  we  know,  by  experience  in 
handling  under  the  eye,  that  solid  bodies  present.^  Thus  a 
sphere  is  actually  seen  as  a  circle,  but  the  shading  of  its  sur- 
face is  a  sign  by  which  from  experience  we  judge,  and  say 
we  see,  a  sphere.^ 

In  binocular  vision  we  have,  besides  the  shading,  yet 
another  means  of  judging  geometrical  solidity  or  shape. 
In  looking  at  a  thick  book,  for  example,  lying  on  my  table, 
there  are  not  only  two  pictures,  one  on  each  retina,  but  these 
pictures  are  different,  since  the  book  is  seen  from  different 
points  of  view.     Knowing  from  experience  that  the  differ- 

1  Volney  observed,  in  a  case  of  couching  for  cataract,  that  the  patient^ 
who  was  a  good  geometrician,  not  only  distinguished  plane  figures  as  differ- 
ent, but  also  correctly  named  the  circle,  the  triangle,  etc.  But  on  being  asked 
how  he  was  enabled  to  do  this,  he  replied  that  he  tried  to  think  how  they 
would  feel  if  he  should  pass  his  fingers  over  the  outline. 

2  "  The  '  old  psychology  '  was  accustomed  to  hold  that  we  cannot  perceive 
the  third  dimension  with  the  eyes.  This  is  undoubtedly  erroneous.  Depth 
and  distance  are  immediately  perceived  by  sight."  —  Ladd,  Outlines  of  Phys- 
iological Psychology,  p.  339.  We  quote  this  remarkable  assertion  merely  to 
show  that  other  opinions  are  entertained. 

3  The  sun  and  moon,  and  the  planets  as  seen  through  a  telescope,  being 
destitute  of  this  shading,  appear  to  be  flat  discs,  though  we  know  them  to 
be  and  think  of  them  as  spheres.  The  shading  is  often  exhibited  on  a  flat 
surface,  as  in  good  frescoes,  so  skilfully  as  completely  to  deceive  us. 


166  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

ence  is  produced  by  a  solid  bod}-,  I  seem  to  see  a  solid,  I 
seem  to  see  the  third  dimension.  It  is,  however,  merely 
represented,  and  the  judgment  involved  is  called  the  stereo- 
scopic judgment.^ 

The  physical  solidity  of  outer  bodies  is  known  originally 
in  their  resistance  to  voluntary  locomotion.  Mere  contact  is 
usually  an  accepted  sign  of  a  physical  solid.  If  we  doubt, 
we  apply  pressure  as  the  test,^  Opacity  is  also  a  sign.  But 
to  both  touch  and  sight  physical  solidity  is  a  mediate  and 
acquired  perception,  and  occasionally  they  betray  our  trust.^ 

In  all  cases  of  suspected  error  in  any  of  these  cognitions 
originally  given  in  voluntary  locomotion,  and  acquired  as 
mediate  perceptions  by  the  other  senses,  we  almost  instinc- 
tively have  recourse  to  their  source ;  we  test  them  by  hand- 
ling. This  is  why  children  and  uncultivated  people  are  so 
strongly  disposed  to  handle  whatever  they  see.  They  show 
thereby  a  lack  of  culture,  it  is  true,  but  it  is  an  indispen- 
sable part  of  the  process  of  culture. 

1  From  (TTepeSs  a-KOTreTv,  to  see  a  solid.  The  pretty  illusions  of  the  reflecting 
and  refracting  stereoscopes  of  Wheatstone  and  Brewster,  which  supply  to 
vision  the  requisite  conditions,  are  familiar,  and  prove  the  mediate  character 
of  this  cognition. 

Molyneux  asked  Locke  whether  a  man  born  blind  could  on  receiving  sight 
distinguish  between  a  cube  and  a  sphere  by  the  eye  alone.  The  question  has 
been  much  discussed.  The  answer  is  that  he  could  distinguish  the  projected 
plane  figures  as  different,  but  could  not  know  in  them  a  cube  and  a  sphere. 
—  Locke,  Essay,  ii,  9.  Nunneley,  On  the  Onjans  of  Vision,  p.  31  (1858), 
describes  a  case  of  couching  with  careful  observations.  See  also  Naville, 
Bevue  Scientifique,  p.  943  (1887).  The  oldest  but  most  famous  case  of 
Cheselden  is  detailed  m  Philosophical  Tra)isactions  for  1728,  No.  402.  See 
it  quoted  by  Hamilton,  Meta.,  p.  391  sq. ;  and,  with  other  cases,  by  McCosh, 
Psychology,  vol.  i,  p.  45  sq.  All  the  observed  facts  in  these  cases  confirm 
the  view  we  have  adopted. 

It  is  well  worth  noting  that  the  giving  sight  to  a  man  born  blind,  recorded 
in  John  9,  was  more  than  a  physical  miracle.  He  received  not  merely  a 
sense,  but  an  educated  sense,  such  as  took  Cheselden's  patient  many  months 
to  acquire. 

2  See  Luke  24  :  39  ;  and  John  20  :  24-27. 

8  For  example,  we  sometimes  mistake  a  panel  mirror  for  an  open  door, 
and  attempt  to  pass  through. 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  167 

§  165.  The  perception  of  the  direction  of  objects  is  a 
mediate  perception.  The  terms  right  and  left,  before  and 
behind,  above  and  below,  refer  to  my  own  position.  They 
are  the  names  strictly  of  relations,  and  mere  relations  of 
things  are  not  at  all  objects  of  sense."  The  knowledge  is 
given  in  the  movement  of  my  limbs  requisite  to  reach  things, 
or  in  the  movement  of  my  eyes  requisite  to  see  them.  Upon 
this  experience  rests  the  judgment  of  direction.^ 

The  tensions  of  the  small  muscles  that  move  the  eyeball 
furnish  a  very  delicate  indication  of  direction.  They  cor- 
respond with  the  various  positions  of  the  optic  axis,  so  that 
when  this  is  turned  from  one  object  to  another  they  tell  of 
the  different  directions,  the  sweep  of  the  eye  giving  the 
angular  deviation.  The  estimate  of  an  angle  of  difference 
of  direction  by  this  movement  of  the  eye  reminds  us  of  the 
sweep  of  the  index  arm  of  a  mariner's  sextant.^ 

The  doctrine  that  an  object  is  judged  to  be  in  the  direc- 
tion which  the  axial  ray  of  light  from  it  has  on  entering  the 
eye,  is  true,  excepting  that  the  last  direction  of  the  ray  is 
not  at  all  the  ground  of  the  judgment;  for  of  the  ray,  as 
well  as  of  the  eye  itself,  we  are  utterly  unconscious.  The 
accord  between  a  visual  judgment  of  direction  and  the  last 
line  of  light  is  because  the  latter  most  generally  lies  in  the 

1  The  attitude  of  the  body  being  erect,  it  seems  not  unlikely  that  we  refer 
a  line  of  direction  to  three  co-ordinate  planes  at  right  angles  to  each  other, 
one  horizontal  through  the  eyes,  the  others  vertical,  one  of  which  passes 
through  the  ears,  and  the  three  having  their  common  point  in  the  middle  of 
the  head.  If  it  be  true  that  we  naturally  figure  to  ourselves  in  a  vague  way 
this  construction,  each  one  thus  assuming  himself  to  be  a  centre  of  things 
and  an  origin  of  co-ordinates,  then  the  Cartesian  system  of  rectangular  co- 
ordinates was  not  so  much  an  invention  as  a  discovery. 

2  On  the  authority  of  Wundt  we  have  that  "  one  sviffering  from  paresis  of 
the  right  external  muscle  of  the  eye,  so  that  the  nmscle  is  not  able  by  the 
utmost  effort  to  effect  a  lateral  movement  of  more  than  20",  locates  an  object, 
which  in  reality  is  only  20°  distant  from  the  median  plane,  at  a  point  so  far 
ovitward  as  corresponds  to  the  utmost  outward  movement  of  the  normal  eye, 
and,  when  asked  to  touch  the  object,  places  his  finger  far  beyond  it  to  the 
right."  —  See  Baldwin,  Psychology,  p.  128,  note. 


168  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

true  direction.  The  ground  of  judgment,  originally  certain 
muscular  impressions,  is  transferred  to  certain  visual  im- 
pressions. These,  not  the  last  direction  of  the  light,  some- 
times mislead  us.  It  is  thus  that  refraction,  reflection,  and 
aberration  cause  illusions;  for  example,  the  sun  appears  to 
have  fully  risen,  when  it  is  in  reality  still  below  the 
horizon.^ 

In  explaining  visible  direction,  the  complete  inversion  of 
the  retinal  picture  has  been  a  great  puzzle.  But  it  is  easily 
solved  by  the  consideration  that  we  are  unconscious  of  the 
retinal  picture  itself.  Being  conscious  only  of  the  impres- 
sions which  it  determines  on  the  inner  sight  centre,  we 
judge  from  them  of  direction  according  to  experience.  But 
on  any  supposition,  the  inversion  of  everything  is  equiva- 
lent to  the  inversion  of  nothing.  Total  inversion  does  not 
change  or  modify  any  spatial  relations  whatever. ^ 

§  166.  The  ear  learns  to  estimate  direction.  There  is  an 
axis  of  hearing,  the  line  passing  through  the  two  ears. 
Experience  teaches  that  the  most  distinct  sounds  come  in 
the  direction  of  this  line.  We  judge  that  the  sound  having 
a  maximum  distinctness  in  one  ear,  and  a  minimum  in  the 
other,  has  its  source  in  the  direction  of  the  auricular  axis. 
An  angle  formed  at  the  ear  by  this  axis  with  a  radius  of  the 
aerial  waves,  and  estimated  by  the  degree  of  distinctness, 

1  Like  a  coin  viewed  aslant  in  a  teacup  of  water. 

2  This  last  is  Miiller's  explanation.  — Hum.  J'hys.,  p.  910.  It  is  adopted 
by  Carpenter,  who  objects  to  Brewster's  theory  that  the  Ime  of  visible 
direction  is  immediately  given  by  the  path  of  the  axial  ray.  Le  Conte  revives 
Brewster's  theory  thus:  "Each  focal  impression  is  referred  back  to  its 
corresponding  radiant,  and  thus  the  external  image  is  reconstructed  in  space 
in  its  true  position,  or  is  reinverted  in  the  act  of  projection."  —  Sight,  p.  85. 
This  is  merely  a  geometrical  fancy,  without  a  fact  to  support  it.  Our  knowl- 
edge of  the  direction  and  relative  position  of  objects  seen  is  an  aquisition  by 
sight  from  our  experience  in  handling  them.  When  we  dress  before  a  mirror, 
we  perform  a  series  of  partial  inversions,  perplexing  at  first,  but  soon  as  easy 
as  if  we  were  working  under  direct  vision.  So  also  the  microscopist  and 
teiescopist  adjust  themselves  to  the  inversions  of  their  lenses. 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  169 

also  enables   one  to  perceive  the  direction  of  the  sonorous 

centre. 

But  the  judgment  of  direction  by  the  ear  is  much  less 
accurate  and  reliable  than  by  the  eye,  since  the  ear  has  no 
appendages  similar  to  the  muscles  of  the  eyeball  for  counter- 
checking  its  estimates ;  and  also  because  the  aerial  Avaves  are 
not  so  rigidly  direct  as  the  ethereal  rays.  Frequent  illusions 
warn  us  and  impair  our  confidence.  Yet  we  as  truly  hear 
the  direction  of  a  sonorous  body  as  we  see  that  of  a  luminous 
one.  The  art  of  ventriloquism  lies  chiefly  in  a  skilful 
mimicry  of  sounds,  so  that  in  spite  of  reason  we  misjudge, 
on  grounds  of  experience  and  confirmed  association,  their 
direction  as  well  as  their  distance  and  source. ^ 

§  167.  The  size  of  things,  and  their  distance  from  each 
other  and  from  me,  are  given  originally  only  in  voluntary 
locomotive  energy.  Size  or  comparative  magnitude  is  meas- 
ured extension  taken  as  a  quality  of  body.  It  is  given 
directly  in  differences  of  grasp  for  small  bodies,  in  differ- 
ences of  reach  for  the  larger,  and  in  differences  of  total 
movement,  as  in  walking  over  or  about  them,  for  the  largest. 
Distance  is  the  measured  extension  of  the  free  space  between 
bodies.  It  is  similarly  given.  What  is  meant  by  an  object's 
being  four  yards  from  wheje  I  stand  ?  This  at  least,  that  it 
would  require  a  certain  number  of  paces  to  come  up  to  it,  a 
certain  amount  of  voluntary  effort,  a  certain  expenditure  of 
muscular  energy.  The  true  and  ultimate  meaning,  then, 
of  size  and  distance,  as  objects  of  experience,  is  tactile  and 
muscular  in  connection  with  voluntary  locomotion. ^ 

1  One  of  the  most  pleasing  of  illusions  is  echo.  Other  senses  learn  to 
estimate  direction.  We  are  led  by  smell  in  the  direction  of  fire.  We  can 
perceive  muscularly,  while  walking  at  night,  our  direction  pretty  well,  but 
an  inexperienced  person  is  liable  to  wander. 

2  When  I  say  that  yonder  log  is  six  yards  long  and  a  yard  in  circumfer- 
ence, this  ultimately  means  that  it  would  take  so  many  strides  to  traverse  its 
length,  and  the  full  extent  of  my  arms  to  embrace  it.  To  get  an  idea  of  a 
mile,  I  must  travel  it,  and  a  hundred  miles  is  a  hundred  times  that  energy. 


170  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Each  of  the  special  senses  acquires  power  to  discern  dis- 
tance; that  is,  each  of  the  percepts  becomes  a  ground  on 
which  we  estimate  it.  We  judge  of  distance  by  smell,  and 
even  by  taste,  as  when  we  perceive  that  we  are  approaching 
the  sea  by  the  taste  of  its  salty  air.  The  mediate  perception 
of  distance  by  sound  is  habitual.  The  sharp  clap  of  thunder 
is  near ;  the  long,  subdued  roll  is  far  off.  We  hear  the  bay- 
ing of  our  hunting-hounds,  and  perceive  that  they  are  half  a 
mile  away.  By  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  a  pavement  at 
night  we  hear  them  first  approach,  and  then  recede.  Hence 
many  illusions.  The  exciting  crescendo  of  an  unseen  trum- 
pet seems  to  advance;  the  soothing  diminuendo  seems  to 
recede,  and  die  away  in  the  distance.  Similarly  the  ven- 
triloquist, imitating  the  count  of  a  regiment  in  line,  pro- 
duces an  illusive  vista  of  sounds ;  and  by  playing  in  many 
ways,  with  our  accustomed  sonorous  perspective,  he  cheats, 
not  our  ears,  but  our  judgments,  and  sets  them  to  contra- 
dicting each  other. 

§  168.  The  estimate  of  the  size  and  distance  of  near 
objects  by  the  eye  involves  several  elements.  The  visual 
angle,  or  the  angle  at  the  eye  which  the  object  subtends, 
measures   the  apparent  size  on  the  field   of   view.^     Now, 

An  infant  crawls  about  its  nursery,  and  handles  all  it  can  get  hold  of,  thus 
investigating  size  and  distance.  The  natural  standards  are  taken  from  the 
human  body  ;  as,  the  inch,  or  thumb  joint ;  the  span  ;  the  foot ;  the  cubit,  or 
forearm  ;  the  yard,  or  arm's  length  or  a  stride  ;  the  fathom,  or  a  man's 
height,  or  reach  with  both  arms;  the  league  (Ger.  Stxinde),  or  an  hour's 
walk,  etc.  This  accords  with  the  ultimate  muscular  meaning  of  size  and 
distance.     So  also  my  tongue  tacitly  tells  me  the  size  of  a  morsel. 

1  The  visual  angle  should  be  distinguished  from  the  optic  angle.  The 
latter  is  the  angle  formed  by  the  optic  axes  of  the  eyes,  and  has  its  apex  in 
a  ijoint  of  the  object  seen.  It  varies  inversely  with  the  distance.  It  has  been 
supposed  by  Brewster  and  many  others  that  the  knowledge  of  this  angle, 
given  by  the  tension  of  the  external  and  internal  recti  muscles,  enables  us  to 
judge  the  distance  of  near  objects.  To  this  is  added  the  tension  of  the  ciliary 
muscle,  altering  the  convexity  of  the  crystalline  lens  (Ilelmholtz).  But 
Wheatstone  ascertained  by  exix-riments  that  "unless  other  signs  accompany 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  171 

since  this  apparent  size  is  a  projection  of  real  size,  it  is 
obvious  that  there  is  a  certain  direct  correspondence  between 
them,  and  that  the  one  furnishes,  in  part,  ground  for  judging 
the  other. 

But  it  is  also  obvious  that  apparent  size  depends  not 
merely  on  real  size,  but  also  upon  the  distance  from  the 
observer.  Apparent  size  varies  inversely  as  the  square  of 
the  distance.  But  the  distance,  having  no  projection,  no 
representative,  on  the  field  of  view,  can  be  judged  only 
indirectly,  and  with  much  uncertainty.  ^ 

Apparent  size  is  given.  If  real  size  be  known,  distance 
may  be  estimated.  If  distance  be  known,  real  size  may  be 
estimated.  If  neither  real  size  nor  distance  be  known,  one 
of  the  two  must  first  be  estimated  in  order  to  judge  the 
other.  Which  comes  usually  first?  Since  distance  has  no 
projection  or  representative  on  the  field  of  view,  evidently 
there  will  first  be  an  estimate  of  size  in  order  to  an  estimate 
of  distance.^ 

The  distance  of  two  objects  from  each  other  is  estimated 
ocularly  by  judging  first  their  real  size;  then,  if   they  are 

the  sensation  of  convergence  of  the  optic  axes,  the  notion  of  distance  we 
thence  derive  is  uncertain  and  obscure."  For  example,  the  vision  of  a  single 
luminous  point  shining  in  the  dark.  See  Phil.  Trans,  for  1852,  Bakerian 
Lecture,  by  Sir  Charles  Wheatstone. 

1  Thus  the  full  moon  is  as  large  as  the  sun,  though  the  intense  brightness 
■of  the  sun  makes  the  false  impression  that  it  occupies  more  space  on  the 
field  of  view.  The  moon  appears  much  larger  than  Jupiter,  and  still  larger 
than  Sirius,  and  these  projected  on  the  face  of  the  sky  may  be  so  situated 
as  to  appear  at  equal  distances  from  each  other.  All  this  is  unreal.  A  dime 
held  up  in  the  field  of  view  eclipses  the  moon,  and  the  moon  in  turn  eclipses 
the  sun,  all  in  one  apparent  place.  And  so  of  terrestrial  objects.  A  book  in 
my  hand  is  as  large  as  the  window,  i.e.  it  occupies  as  much  of  the  area  of 
vision.  A  straw  stuck  on  the  window-pane  is  as  high  as  the  pine  tree  beyond, 
and  as  the  further  mountain.  A  carriage  moving  off  from  me  is  a  striking 
experience.  At  first  it  rapidly,  and  then  more  slowly,  dwindles.  But  the 
carriage  itself  does  not  grow  smaller  ;  hence  what  I  see  is  not  the  carriage. 
See  §  157,  note. 

2  This  conclusion  thus  reached  a  priori  is  the  same  as  that  reached  by 
Wheatstone  a  posteriori,  or  by  experiment. 


172  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

in  a  line  with  the  observer,  his  own  estimated  distance  from 
each  gives,  by  subtraction,  their  distance  from  each  other; 
if  not  in  line  with  liini,  an  easy  method  of  natural  triangu- 
lation  ascertains  the  distance,  and  this,  by  practice,  with 
remarkable  accuracy.^ 

§  169.  The  estimate  of  the  size  and  distance  of  objects 
more  than  twenty  feet  away  depends  mainlj-  upon  perspec- 
tive. Ground  perspective,  as  it  is  technically  called,  is 
determined  by  the  number  and  arrangement  of  objects  in  the 
field  of  view.  Some  of  these  being  known  in  respect  of  size 
or  distance,  furnish  means  for  judging  others.  The  simplest 
case  is  that  of  a  vista,  as  an  avenue  of  trees,  or  the  houses 
along  a  street.  All  lines  parallel  to  the  line  of  sight  seem 
to  meet  it  in  the  vanishing-point  on  the  horizon,  and  the 
length  of  all  vertical  lines,  as  the  height  of  the  trees, 
houses,  columns,  etc.,  apparently  diminishes  in  the  ratio  of 
the  distance.  In  case  of  a  landscape,  a  known  object,  as  a 
man  in  the  middle  ground,  enables  us  to  appreciate  the  size, 
distance,  and  relative  position  of  objects  in  the  fore  and 
back  grounds.^ 

1  Then  scientific  trigonometry  is  not  so  mucli  an  invention  as  a  discovery. 

Tliat  distance,  as  discerned  by  sight,  is  not  at  all  an  original  but  a  second- 
ary perception,  was  maintained  by  Berkeley  in  his  Essay  toward  a  New 
TJieory  of  Vision  (1709),  a  prelude  to  his  doctrine  of  the  Perception  of  a 
Material  World.  See  §  1.30.  The  latter  has  been  generally  rejected,  the 
former  as  generally  accepted.  It  is  noteworthy  that  Descartes,  in  his  treatise 
on  Dioptric,  anticipated,  in  every  point,  the  views  of  Berkeley  respecting 
vision.    See  especially  Discourse,  vi. 

For  further  proof  we  add  tlie  pathological  fact,  that  in  case  of  paralysis  of 
of  the  abductor  muscle  of  the  eye,  the  patient  sees  objects  further  from  him 
than  they  really  are.  A  stonemason  afflicted  with  this  disease  strikes  his 
hand  with  the  hammer  Instead  of  hitting  the  stone  (Wundt).  But  little  by 
little  lie  recovers  his  judgment  of  distance,  thougli  by  great  effort. ' 

-  Optical  illusions  are  so  frequent  tliat  the  word  apparent  is  used  in  oppo- 
sition to  7-eal  (v{.  apparition).  The  full  moon  and  the  sun,  when  near  the 
horizon,  appear  larger  and  further  tlian  when  overhead,  though,  in  fact,  the 
angular  diameter  is  then  somewhat  less.  This  is  because  at  the  horizon 
intervening  objects  furnish  a  perspective.      If  we  cut  off   this  by  looking 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  173 

Aerial  perspective  or  atmosphere  is  the  greater  or  less  dim- 
ness or  distinctness  of  an  object.  This,  having  been  found 
to  vary  with  the  distance,  furnishes  a  basis  of  estimate. 
Thus  we  judge  the  relative  distances  of  mountain  peaks  ris- 
ing above  and  beyond  each  other,  and  becoming  more  and 
more  dim.^ 

The  art  of  landscape-painting  depends  on  the  principles 
of  perspective.  In  early  life,  before  the  visual  signs  of  real 
size  and  distance  have  been  investigated,  and  the  secondary 
perception  acquired,  it  is  probable  that  a  real  landscape  is 
viewed  as  an  erect  surface  like  a  picture.  An  important 
part  of  the  education  of  artists  consists  in  learning  to  view 
landscapes  thus,  in  order  to  depict  them,  which  is  called  by 
Ruskin  "recovering  the  innocence  of  the  eye." 

§  170.  The  definite  location  of  the  percepts  of  touch  on 
parts  of  the  skin  is  an  acquired  perception.  It  is  evident 
that  we  cannot  locate  these  percepts  unless  we  have  knowl- 
edge of  the  superficial  form  of  the  body.  If  my  foot  and 
shoulder  be  lightly  struck,  I  would  surely  be  conscious  that 
the  contacts  were  two,  even  if  simultaneous,  and  this  doubt- 
less by  virtue  of  the  independence  of  the  nerve  connections; 
but  I  could  not  locate  the  contacts  without  some  knowledge 
of  the  localities.  Now  a  knowledge  of  the  superficial  extent 
or  shape  of  my  body  is  acquired  by  the  voluntary  locomotion 
of  one  part,  as  the  hand,  over  other  parts.  Having  thus 
learned  it,  I  entertain  a  representative  image  of  my  figure, 

through  a  tube,  the  estimate  is  instantly  reduced.  For  the  same  reason  the 
dome  of  the  sky  appears  flattened,  or  less  than  a  hemisphere.  A  landsman's 
estimate  of  distance  at  sea  is  liable  to  be  very  erroneous,  his  accustomed 
basis  of  ground  perspective  being  wanting. 

1  In  the  clear  air  of  Italy  the  background  of  the  landscape  seems  much 
.  nearer  than  in  hazy  England.  A  man  seen  in  a  fog  appears  gigantic  ;  the 
aerial  effect  overcomes  and  reverses  the  usual  order  (§  168)  ;  we  overestimate 
his  distance  first,  and  then  his  size.  On  illusions  see  Keid,  Inquu-ij  into  the 
Hummi  Mind,  ch.  6,  §  22  ;  also  Brewster,  Letters  to  Sir  Walter  Scott  on 
Natural  Magic;  also  Memoirs  of  Bohert  Houdin,  an  autobiography. 


174  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

and  then  it  becomes  possible  to  Ibcate  a  contact  on  the  foot, 
or  hand,  or  trunk,  or  head.  But  since  this  is  done  through 
a  representative  knowledge  of  my  superficial  figure,  it 
follows  that  this  localization  is  representative,  mediate,  and 
acquired.  1 

Moreover,  if  a  tactile  sensory  nerve  trunk  be  tied  with  a 
thread,  all  parts  of  the  skin  supplied  by  it  become  wholly 
insensible;  but  if  the  trunk  be  irritated  above  the  thread, 
pain  is  felt,  which,  however,  is  referred  to  those  parts, 
although  the  nervous  communication  with  them  is  entirely 
cut  off.  So  when  the  foot  is  asleep,  the  disagreeable  sen- 
sation of  numbness,  which  is  distinctly  referred  to  the  foot, 
is  because  of  an  injurious  pressure  of  a  trunk  nerve,  per- 
haps in  the  thigh,  and  we  greatly  mistake  the  true  situs  of 
the  disturbance.  Such  facts  show  that  the  definite  location 
of  the  sense-percept  is  mediate.  The  remarkable  illusion, 
known  in  surgery  as  "the  phantom  limb,"  not  only  accords 
with,  but  strongly  confirms  this  view.^ 

What  has  been  said  of  the  location  of  tactile  sense-percepts 
is  true  of  cutaneous  sensations  generally,   and  also  of  all 

1  See  §  24,  note  on  "local  signs."  When  a  babe  is  hurt  by  a  pin,  it 
screams  with  pain,  but  shows  no  sign  of  knowing  where  the  hurt  is.  Some- 
times the  dentist  pulls  the  wrong  tooth,  because  we  cannot  tell  him  certainly 
which  one  it  is  that  aches. 

2  After  an  arm  has  been  amputated  the  patient  still  locates  sense-percep- 
tions in  a  representation  of  it.  He  will  say :  My  hand  is  open  ;  now  it  is 
shut.  I  am  touching  my  little  finger  with  my  thumb,  etc.  An  irritation  in 
the  stump  he  feels  in  the  phantom  hand.  Muller  insists  that  "  these  illusions 
are  permanent  and  preserve  the  same  intensity  throughout  life."  — /'/«?/s., 
p.  043.-  Vulpian,  Carpenter,  Spring,  and  others,  hold  the  contrary.  Also 
Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  the  phantom  limb, 
says:  "The  site  of  the  amputation  does  not  seem  to  exercise  any  influence 
upon  the  consciousness  of  the  existence  of  the  limb,  but  in  time,  if  not 
reminded  by  pain  or  other  subjective  symptom,  the  patient  is  apt  to  lose 
sense  of  the  presence  of  the  part,  and  this,  I  think,  is  most  liable  to  occur 
as  regards  the  leg."  —  Lessons  of  the  Nerves,  p.  350 ;  cf.  p.  350.  That  is, 
the  old  judgments  of  locality  are  gradually  replaced  by  new  ones. 

It  was  this  curious  fact  that  led  Descartes  to  explain  localization  by  asso- 
ciation. See  remarks  by  Coleridge,  Biog.  Lit.,  oh.  5.  Also  by  Ribot,  Ger. 
Psych.,  pp.  111-2. 


MEDIATE  PERCEPTION.  175 

internal  sensations.  The  latter,  however,  owing  probably  to 
the  comparative  sparseness  of  the  nerve  connections  and  to 
their  being  less  accessible  to  observation,  are  localized  with 
more  difficulty  and  less  accuracy.  Painful  disturbances  of 
the  liver,  the  spleen,  the  kidneys,  are  hardly  distinguish- 
able, and  are  often  misplaced  even  by  those  who  know  some- 
thing of  their  own  anatomy.  The  well-informed  physician 
often  applies  local  remedies  to  parts  remote  from  those  where 
the  pain  is  distinctly  felt. 

§  171.  Let  us  consider  another  curious  and  significant 
fact.  If  I  touch  a  rough  wall  with  the  end  of  a  rod,  the 
roughness  is  not  perceived  at  the  hand  grasping  the  rod,  but 
beyond,  at  the  wall.  Moreover,  I  locate  the  sensation  also 
at  the  remote  end  of  the  rod,  rather  than  in  my  body.  Tlie 
end  of  the  rod  seems  to  be  sensitive.  I  feel  out  there  the 
roughness  and  hardness.  The  perception  apparently  carries 
the  sensation  perforce  along  with  it  out  of  my  body ;  or  we 
might  say,  my  personality  seems  enlarged  and  extended  to 
the  point  of  the  rod.  Upon  this  principle  depends  the 
efficacy  of  tools.  If  we  felt  merely  their  contact  with  the 
hand,  and  not  their  hold  and  movement  on  the  material, 
they  would  be  unmanageable  and  useless.  So  the  knife  and 
fork,  the  knitting  and  the  sewing  needle.  So  the  probe  of 
the  surgeon ;  he  feels  the  bottom  of  the  wound.  The  stick 
of  the  groping  blindman  seems  to  him  a  part  of  himself. 
This  extension  of  tactile  and  muscular  sense-perception 
beyond  the  periphery  is  obviously  representative  and  ac- 
quired.i 

1  This  feeling  of  enlarged  personality  is  quite  remarkable.  If  I  hold  a  rod 
by  the  middle,  I  feel  its  weight  only  ;  but  if  by  any  other  part,  or  if  balanced 
vertically  on  my  finger,  I  feel  its  length,  and  am  carried  out  beyond  myself 
to  that  extent.  If  I  swing  a  plumb-line,  I  feel  its  length;  the  plumb  has 
become  a  part  of  me,  and  describes  my  own  circumference.  If  I  balance  a 
bowl  on  the  tip  of  my  finger  inside,  and  some  one  taps  its  edge  with  a  stick, 
I  feel  the  expanse  of  the  bowl. 

This  will  account  perhaps  for  some  fancies  in  dress.     High  heels  give  a. 


176  MEDIATE  KISOWLEBGE. 

The  i)ercepts  of  our  other  senses  are  also  located  upon 
what  is  conceived  to  be  their  proximate  cause.  As  Ave 
assign  tangibility  to  what  is  perceived  to  be  in  contact  with 
the  skill,  so  we  locate  the  red  color  on  the  rose,  and  Ave 
assign  the  blue  to  the  sky,  even  after  we  have  found  out 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  sky.  We  locate  the  blast  of  a 
trumpet  in  its  throat,  the  peal  of  a  church-bell  in  the 
steeple,  sweetness  in  the  sugar,  and  perfume  in  the  violet. 
If,  however,  I  have  learned  that  odor  is  caused  by  an  ether, 
I  may  come  to  represent  it  as  diffused  in  the  ambient  air. 
The  physicist,  who  is  accustomed  to  represent  sound  as 
aerial  vibration,  will  locate  the  tones  of  the  bell,  not  in  the 
steeple,  but  in  its  atmosphere.  In  these  cases,  the  sensa- 
tion, if  located  at  all,  is  referred  to  one's  own  body,  generally 
to  the  organ  of  sense  in  exercise. 

feeling  of  height  from  the  ground  up.  A  man  sets  his  beaver  square  on  his 
head,  and  feels  its  weight  only  ;  a  dandy  sets  his  a  little  to  one  side,  feels 
its  swing,  and  is  elevated  to  its  centre  of  gravity.  So  the  waving  curls  and 
floating  sash  of  a  young  miss,  and  the  long  train  of  a  duchess,  give  a  wide 
and  enjoyable  sweep  to  their  feeling  of  presence. 

It  will  also  account,  in  part  at  least,  for  our  fondness  for  horseback 
exercise.  A  rider  is  more  than  a  man  ;•  he  is,  in  one  word,  a  horseman.  He 
feels  the  stroke  of  the  horse's  feet  on  the  ground  ;  feels  it  himself  to  be  hard 
or  soft ;  feels  the  animal's  strength  and  speed  to  be  his  own.  and  will  say,  I 
have  just  galloped  a  mile,  when  in  fact  it  was  the  horse  only  that  galloped. 
Perhaps  the  myth  of  the  centaur  took  its  rise  from  this  feeling. 

Lotze  discusses  these  feelings  at  some  length.  See  Mikrokosmus,  bk.  v, 
Geisty  ch.  2,  Die  menchliche  sinnlichkeit. 


SUGGESTION.  177 


CHAPTER   III. 


SUGGESTION. 


§  172.  Before  discussing  the  specific  powers  of  mediate 
knowledge,  it  is  needful  to  consider  the  sequence  of  mental 
states.  Perceptions  being  dependent  on  the  presentation  of 
external  objects,  the  order  in  which  they  follow  each  other 
is  determined  from  without  and  not  by  the  mind.  Repre- 
sentations, being  wholly  subjective,  and  so  independent  of 
external  objects,  their  order  of  sequence  must  be  either 
altogether  fortuitous,  or  else  determined  by  some  principle 
of  the  mind  itself.  We  are  conscious  of  a  constantly  chang- 
ing train  of  mediate  cognitions ;  one  follows  another  unceas- 
ingly. Evidently  they  do  not  arise  at  hap-hazard,  but  are 
connected  by  bonds  which  determine  the  train. 

Logical  sequence  occurs  when  one  or  more  cognitions 
implicitly  contain  one  other  which  the  process  of  thinking 
explicates.^  The  sequence  is  intrinsic  in  the  thoughts 
themselves.  The  individual  thinker  propels  the  train,  but 
does  not  determine  its  order:  this  is  the  same  in  all  minds, 
being  independent  of  experience  and  habit. 

Suggested  sequence  occurs  when  a  present  mental  state 
induces  the  repetition  of  a  past  similar  state  with  its  associa- 
tions. This  bond  between  the  present  and  the  past  is  estab- 
lished by  the  experience,  and  strengthened  by  the  habits  of 
the  individual  mind.  It  determines  that  a  present  state 
shall  be  followed  by  a  repetition  of  past  states.  This,  as  dis- 
tinct from  the  logical  order,  may  be  called  the  psychological, 

1  For  example,  the  notion  of  a  triangle  is  followed  by  the  notion  that  an 
exterior  angle  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  two  opposite  interior  angles.  The 
consideration  of  logical  sequence  is  postponed  to  the  topic  Thought. 


178  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

or  the  empirical,  order.     Its  procedure  is  expressed  in  three 
laws,  called  the  Laws  of  Suggestion. ^ 

§  173.  The  first  is  the  Law  of  Similarity,  or  of  Repeti- 
tion, thus :  A  present  mental  mode  tends  to  suggest  a  past 
similar  mode.  The  suggesting  and  the  suggested  states  are 
similar,  but  differ  in  time.  For  examples :  I  see  a  man  and 
recognize  him  as  having  been  seen  before;  the  grief  that 
now  agitates  me  recalls  a  former  grief. ^  This  law  expresses 
a  primary  condition  of  complete  recognition,  of  the  repro- 
duction, renewal,  revival,  or  repetition  of  a  previous  state, 
according  to  subsequent  laws.^ 

Present  mental  states  tend  to  revive  also  their  contraries. 
The  brightness  of  to-day  may  remind  one  of  the  darkness  of 
last  night.*     But  this  occurs  only  through  the  law  of  repe- 

1  Hamilton's  treatmeut  of  this  subject,  Meta.,  p.  428  sq.,  abounds  iii  good 
illustrations,  but  is  philosophically  defective.  See  Mill,  Ex.  of  H.'s  Phil., 
ch.  14.  But  in  Reid,  note  D***,  Hamilton  gives  it  a  much  more  thorough 
and  satisfactory  analysis. 

2  Other  examples  :  I  hear  a  sound,  as  of  a  steam-v^'histle,  and  recognize  it 
as  indistinguishable  from  what  I  have  often  heard  before.  A  sweet  taste  just 
now  experienced  reminds  me  of  a  sweet  taste  experienced  some  time  ago. 
The  present  thought  of  a  social  duty  suggests  the  entirely  similar  thought  of 
yesterday. 

Let  it  be  noted  that  the  principle  of  similarity  is  not  association,  for  the 
mental  states  implied  have  not  been  experienced  together,  which  is  essential 
to  association.  Wit,  which  always  presents  somethmg  new,  has  been  fairly 
defined  as  a  quick  discovery  of  remote  resemblances.  E.g.  the  French  say, 
a  prudent  man  is  like  a  pin,  his  head  keeps  him  from  going  too  far.  Voltaire 
said,  ideas  are  like  beards,  women  and  boys  have.jione.  Putting  these  in 
form  of  question  and  answer,  we  have  the  conundrum.  So  also  punning, 
rhyming,  and  alliteration  depend  on  similarities,  and  not  at  all  on  association. 

3  For  shock  of  similarity  as  fundamental,  see  §  59. 

The  terms  reproduction,  etc. ,  are  apt  to  mislead.  A  present  state  cannot 
be  strictly  a  revival  or  renewal  of  our  past.  It  is  similar,  but  not  the  same, 
for  it  differs  in  time,  without  having  persisted  meantime,  which  is  essential 
to  identity. 

*  Other  examples :  The  cold  of  this  winter  suggests  the  heat  of  last  summer  ; 
the  frigid,  the  torrid  zone.  Seeing  the  strength  and  boldness  of  a  lion,  I  may 
think  of  the  weakness  and  timidity  of  a  hind.  A  mountain  reminds  me  of  an 
abyss.  The  brevity  of  life  brings  to  mind  eternity.  Sidney  Smith  said  that 
in  time  of  danger  presence  of  mind  is  good,  but  absence  of  body  is  better. 


SUGGESTION.  179 

tition.  We  have  seen  that,  by  the  law  of  relativity  (§  58), 
every  cognition  coexists  with  its  opposite  or  contrary. 
Hence  a  state  may  recall  a  past  contrary,  but  not  directly. 
Either  it  recalls  its  own  past  similar,  and  with  it  the  paot 
contrary,  or  the  present  contrary  recalls  its  past  similar.  ^ 

§    174.    The   second   is    the    Law   of    Association,    or   of 
Redintegration,  thus:    Mental  modes  occurring  together  or 
in  close  succession,  adhere,  so  that  the  after-recurrence  of 
any  of  them  tends  to  suggest  the  others.     The  suggesting 
and  suggested  states    are   dissimilar,    but  have  previously 
occurred  at  the  same  time.^     For  example :  A  spoken  word 
strikes  my  ear.     The  sound  is  somewhat  familiar;  that  is, 
the  present  is  similar  to  some  previous  mental  state,  which 
being  thus  partially  revived,   constitutes  a  partial  recogni- 
tion.    So  far,   this   is  according  to  the  law  of  similarity. 
But  the  previous  state  was   associated  with  other  dissim- 
ilar yet  simultaneous  or  successive  states,  to  which  it  ad- 
heres.     Bj^  virtue  of  this  adhesion  they  also  are  recalled, 
and  I  now  fully  recognize  a  peculiar  pronunciation  as  the 
habit  of  a  friend  whose  person  I  now  mentally  represent, 
together  with  the  circumstances  of  a  conversation  I  had  with 
him  yesterday  while  dining  with  him  at  his  home.     Thus 
having  revived,  according  to  the  law  of  similarity,  one  point 
of  a  past  experience,  the  mind  then,  according  to  the  law  of 
redintegration,  spreads,  as  it  were,  through  all  the  attendant 

1  We  proceed,  as  it  were,  along  the  sides  of  a  rectangle,  rather  than  directly 
along  its  diagonal.  Alexander  of  Aphrodisias  held  that  the  suggestion  of 
contraries  is  equivalent  to  that  of  similars,  because  contraries  always  have 
common  attributes.  —  In  Top.,  i,  18. 

For  failures  in  the  law  of  similarity,  due  to  feebleness  or  to  diversity  of 
impression,  .see  Bain,  Senses  and  Intellect,  p.  461  sq..  Am.  ed. 

^  See  this  law  as  stated  by  Kant,  Anthropologie,  §  30.  Juxtaposition  is 
also  usually  held  to  cause  association,  as  lips  and  teeth,  Naples  and  Vesuvius. 
Hence  this  is  often  named  the  law  of  contiguity  in  time  and  place.  But 
objects  in  space  are  known  to  be  contiguous  only  by  being  observed  simul- 
taneously or  in  succession  ;  and  it  is  this,  and  not  juxtaposition,  that  is  the 
proximate  cause  of  the  adhesion. 


180  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

circumstances  with  whicli  the  point  was  associated,  and  so 
reintegrates,  or  makes  whole  again,  the  former  total  state. 
This  second  law  is  obviously  conditioned  on  the  first. ^ 

§  175.  When  the  experience  causing  the  adhesion  is  one 
of  succession,  then  the  total  reproduced  is  a  total  of  succes- 
sion, and  the  order  is  the  original  order.  We  can  easily  say 
the  words  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  their  order;  but  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  say  them  backwards.  Yet  regressive  order  is 
not  disorder,  only  it  is  not  the  order  of  association. ^  A 
natural  order  in  some  cases  determines  the  associated  order; 
for  examples :  an  observed  cj-cle,  as  that  of  the  seasons ;  an 
evolution,  as  the  growth  of  plants ;  cause  and  effect,  as  hail 
and  damage.  But  more  often  the  order  is  arbitrary  or  acci- 
dental. 

After  a  chain  of  associations  has  been  formed,  it  not 
infrequently  occurs  that  intermediate  links  disappear,  those 
that  remain  interlinking  with  each  other,  and  still  preserv- 
ing  their   original   order.      Thus   the   feeling    of   pleasure 

1  Thus  the  name  Alexander  the  Great  may  suggest  Alexander  the  Copper- 
smith.    Campbell's  lines,  — 

"  —  we  linger  to  survey 
The  promised  joys  of  life's  iiurueasured  way," 

very  readily  suggest  those  of  Pope :  — 

"  —  we  tremble  to  survey 
The  growing  labors  of  the  lengthened  way." 

The  striking  similarities  enable  us  to  recall  the  differences. 

The  following,  from  Hobbes,  is  an  oft-repeated  and  classical  illustration : 
"In  a  company  in  which  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  late  civil  war 
[1042-49],  what  could  be  conceived  more  import  hient  than  for  a  person  to 
ask  abruptly,  what  was  the  value  of  a  Roman  denarius  ?  On  a  little  reflec- 
tion, however,  I  was  easily  able  to  trace  the  train  of  thought  which  suggested 
the  question ;  for  the  original  subject  of  discourse  naturally  introduced  the 
history  of  the  king,  and  of  the  treachery  of  those  who  surrendered  his  person 
to  his  enemies ;  this  again  introduced  the  treachery  of  Judas  Iscariot,  and 
the  sum  of  money  which  he  received  for  his  reward."  — Leviathan,  pt.  i,  ch.  3. 

A  number  of  fine  illustrations  are  given  by  Stewart,  Elements,  i,  ch.  5. 

2  The  notes  of  a  familiar  tune  suggest  each  other,  and  we  sing  it  through. 
Now  try  to  sing  it  backwards. 


SUGGESTION.  181 

becomes  associated  in  the  mind  of  the  miser  directly  with  the 
mere  possession  of  money,  he  having  lost  the  connecting  link, 
conveniences  procured  by  money,  out  of  the  chain,  money, 
conveniences,  pleasure.^  Thus  it  is  that  thoughts  which 
originally  followed  each  other  in  the  order  of  logical 
sequence,  and  were  linked  by  reasonings,  become  associated 
by  these  experiences,  and  afterward  suggest  each  other  in 
the  same  order,  but  without  a  repetition  of  the  reasoning. 
We  have  many  special  examples  of  this  in  the  mediate  per- 
ceptions (§  161). 

§  176.  When  the  total  revival  is  a  complement  of  states 
associated  by  simultaneity,  the  likeness  to  a  chain  does  not 
hold.  In  speaking  of  a  train  of  thoughts  thus  associated, 
it  should  not  be  understood  that  one  idea  or  mode  brings  up 
another,  and  this  a  third,  and  so  on,  in  a  simple  chain.  We 
should  remember  that  ordinarily  in  an}'  given  state  we  are 
conscious  not  of  one,  nor  merely  of  a  few,  but  of  a  great 
many  things  at  once  (§  64).  Now  each  of  these  things  may 
have  its  own  peculiar  connections  with  previous  states  of 
the  same  manifold  sort.  Whichever  one,  then,  operates  to 
suggest  its  special  associations,  that  brings  up,  not  merely 
another  one,  but  a  new  multitude,  and  some  one  of  this 
throng  brings  up  still  another  throng  of  cognitions,  feelings, 
states,  of  every  kind.  The  succession,  then,  is  not  like  that 
of  the  links  of  a  chain,  but  rather  like  that  of  the  links  of 
an  intricate  network,  each  of  which  has  its  own  independent 
and  numerous  connections.  Thus  in  lively  conversation, 
the  several  topics,  suggested  often  by  chance  words  or  phrases, 
come  freely,   without  logical  connection,   and  the  mind  is 

^  Hartley  expresses  this  in  liis  Law  of  Transference. —  Observations  on 
Man,  ch.  4.  See  also  Morell,  Hist,  of  Phil,  pt.  i,  cli.  1,  §  3.  Thus,  proba- 
bly, Hamilton  lost  B,  his  A  interlinking  directly  with  C.  —  Meta.,  pp.  244 
and  430  sq.  So  the  events  of  history  come  to  be  immediately  associated  with 
its  monuments,  a  long  intermediate  chain  of  studies  being  overlooked.  xVmid 
the  ruins  of  ancient  Rome,  '■'■quocunque  enim  ingredimur,  in  aliquam  histo- 
riam  vestigium pon'imus.''''  —  Cicero,  De  Finibus,  bk.  v,  ch.  1. 


182  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

crowded  with  successive  swarms  of  ideas,  images,  thoughts, 
and  feelings.  In  reverie,  images  come  and  go  in  great 
troops,  every  moment  the  scene  changes,  we  can  scarce  tell 
how,  and  host  follows  host  unceasingly.  ^ 

§  177.    vSome  states  between  which  there  is  no  necessary, 
and  it  may  be  no  natural,  connection  become  nevertheless 
so  firmly  adherent  by  a  frequent  experience  of  them  together, 
and  perhaps  never  an  experience  of  them  apart,  that  they 
cannot  be  separated.     If  one  exists,  the  other  exists  along 
with  it  in  spite  of  every  effort  made  to  disjoin  them.     This 
is  called  indissoluble  association.^     For  example,  it  is  hardly 
in  our  power  to  dissociate  color  and  extension.     We  have 
constantly  seen  them  combined;  we  have,  perhaps,  never  ob- 
served color  unless  apparently  spread,  as  it  were,  on  a  sur- 
face ;  they  have  been  invariably  conjoined.     Whenever,  then, 
the  idea  of  the  one  occurs,  that  of  the  other  comes  along  with 
it,  and  is  retained  as  long  as  the  first  remains.     Yet  there  is 
no  necessary  connection  between  them.    Color  is  wholly  sub- 
jective ;  extension  is  objective.     The  man  born  eyeless  appre- 
ciates extension  without  color;  and  if  his  inner   organ  be 
excited  by  an  electric  shock,  he  experiences  color  without 
extension.     "There  is  no  more  connection,"  says  Stewart, 
"between  color  and  extension,  than  there  is  between  pain 

1  "  Lulled  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  brain, 

Our  thoughts  are  linked  by  many  a  hidden  chain  ; 
Awake  but  one,  and  lo  !  what  myriads  rise, 
Each  stamps  his  image  as  the  other  flies." 

—  KoGEKs,  Pleasures  of  Memory. 

"Zwar  ist's  mit  der  Gedankenfabrik 
AVie  mit  cinom  Webermcisterstiick, 
Wo  ein  Trilt  tausend  Fiiden  regt, 
Die  Schifflein  heriiber  hiniiber  schiessen. 
Die  Fiiden  ungesehen  flicssen, 
Ein  Schlag  tausend  Verbindungen  schlagt." 

—  Fmtst,  p.  73,  Whitney's  ed. 

See  Cardaillac,  J^Audes  Element,  de  Philos.,  t.  ii,  oh.  6. 
2  See  James  Mill,  Analysis,  etc.,  ch.  3. 


SUGGESTION.  183 

and  solidity."  He  might  have  said,  not  so  much,  for  solid- 
ity may  be  a  cause  of  pain,  but  extension  cannot  be  a  cause 
of  color. 

§  178.  Clearly  the  two  laws  which  have  been  stated  are 
applicable  to  various  modes  of  cognition.  Perceptions  be- 
come associated  merely  by  the  experience  of  them  together 
or  in  close  succession,  so  that  tlie  subsequent  presentation 
of  one  excites  a  representation  of  the  other  (§  161).  Upon 
this  depends  the  possibility  of  language. ^  So  also  memories, 
imaginings,  and  thoughts  may  suggest  each  other.^ 

The  adhesions  determined  by  experience  are  not,  however, 
limited  to  cognitions,  but  take  place  between  any,  even  the 
most  heterogeneous  mental  states.  Not  only  may  a  feeling 
be  associated  with  a  feeling,  or  a  volition  with  a  volition, 
but  a  cognition  may  be  united  Avith  a  feeling,^  a  volition 

1  The  association  between  a  vocal  sound  and  the  position  of  the  organ  of 
speech  requisite  to  produce  it  enables  the  one  to  recall  and  reinstate  the 
other.  Hence  the  power  of  imitating  sounds,  or  of  producing  them  at  will. 
Again,  these  sounds  are  associated  with  the  things  which  they  name,  and  in 
written  language  the  visible  forms  of  words  are  likewise  associated  with  the 
things.  Moreover,  the  sound  and  the  written  word  are  associated  with  each 
other.  These  connections  are  almost  wholly  arbitrary,  yet  they  are  the 
essential  basis  of  human  speech.  So  a  child  comes  to  distinguish  its  right 
hand  from  its  left  (see  Jonah  4  :  11),  by  associating  the  words  with  a  par- 
ticular set  of  muscular  sense-perceptions. 

One  who  has  an  ear  even  slightly  educated  appreciates  the  rhythm  and 
rhyme  of  verses  in  silent  reading ;  and  a  musician  silently  scans  writtv  n 
music,  enjoying  its  beauties  and  critically  judging  its  merits. 

2  No  logical  connection  is  requisite.  I  see  a  toad,  and  instantly  think  of 
Ithurial's  spear.  But  for  the  toad,  I  should  not  have  thought  of  the  spear. 
See  Paradise  Lost,  bk.  iv,  11.  797-882. 

3  A  burnt  child  dreads  fire  ;  or,  as  a  Hebrew  proverb  has  it :  Who  has 
been  bitten  by  a  snake  is  afraid  of  a  rope.  Says  Ossian  :  "The  music  of 
Carryl  was,  like  the  memory  of  joys  that  are  past,  pleasant  and  mournful 
to  the  soul."  Descartes,  in  illustrating  association,  says  that  when  a  child 
he  had  as  a  playmate  a  little  girl  with  a  squint,  whose  early  friendship  made 
him  ever  after  regard  this  defect  with  favor.  See  an  odd  case  mentioned  by 
McCosh,  Emotions,  p.  179. 

The  fact  of  associations  or  adhesions  between  mental  states  other  than 


18 i  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

with  a  cognition,  an  affection  with  a  sensation,  and  so  on; 
and  these  then  suggest  each  other.  Indeed,  an  association 
may  be  so  strong  as  to  reproduce,  not  merely  mental,  but 
also  physical  states.^ 

§  179.  The  third  law  is  the  Law  of  Preference,  thus: 
Suggestion  takes  the  direction  and  is  in  the  ratio  of  the 
interest  which  objects  have  for  the  individual  mind.  The 
two  previous  laws  do  not  account  for  all  the  phenomena. 
They  explain  recurrence  by  association,  but  not  Avhy  one 
idea  or  mode  takes  preference  of  others.  They  explain  the 
fact  of  adhesion,  but  not  why  A  preferably  adheres  to  C 
rather  than  to  B.  They  explain  the  general  tendency,  but 
not  the  mode  of  realization.  The  third  law  is  complemen- 
tary. 

Associations  are  established  by  exjDcrience,  but  they  are 
modified  and  directed  by  the  native  disposition,  tastes,  and 
habits  of  the  individual.  Two  persons  under  entirely  similar 
circumstances  will  recur  to  very  different  ideas,  and  that 

cognitive  shows  that  the  phrase  "association  of  ideas,"  whicli  is  the  usual 
title  given  to  this  whole  subject,  is  much  too  narrow.  It  originated  with 
Locke,  who,  however,  used  the  term  idea  in  a  wide  sense.  The  old  scholas- 
tic title,  "  the  excitation  of  species,"  is  also  inadequate,  since  adhesions  occur 
between  heterogeneous  states. 

1  Reading  a  bill  of  fare  may  excite  hunger.  One  who  has  taken  quinine 
lu  coffee,  for  weeks  tastes  its  bitterness  in  every  cup.  A  remedy  for  inebriety 
is  to  put  tartar-emetic  in  the  drink  ;  thereafter  liquor  is  nauseous.  See  a 
curious  statement  in  Rush,  Afedical  Inquiries,  vol.  ii,  p.  42.  Thinking  of  a 
precipice  excites  a  thrill,  and  even  may  make  one  dizzy.  Imagine  a  nail 
drawn  across  a  slate,  the  flesh  creeps.  The  sight  of  the  surgeon  who  lias 
performed  a  painful  operation  on  me  revives  my  agony,  and  excites  a  dislike 
for  his  person.  See  the  anecdote  in  Locke,  Essa)/,  bk.  ii,  ch.  23,  §  14.  News 
of  a  battle  makes  a  veteran's  old  wound  burn.  So  Heine's  ballad,  Die  Grni- 
adiere :  "  Wie  breunt  meine  alte  Wunde  !  "  Seeing  the  assassin  who  has 
recently  attempted  one's  life  may  cause  the  wound  to  bleed.  Possibly  in 
this  originated  the  old  and  widely  spread  notion  that  a  murderer's  approach 
to  the  corpse  of  his  victim  causes  the  wound  to  bleed  afresh.  See  Nihelun- 
genlied,  Siebenzehntes  Ahenteuer ;  Richard  III,  A.  1,  sc.  2;  Fair  Maid  of 
Perth,  ch.  23  ;  and  Marhle  Faun. 


SUGGESTION.  185 

perhaps  in  spite  of  the  natural  relations  of  things.  Such  a 
relation  subsists  between  the  ideas  horse  and  work,  and  also 
between  rain  and  growth,  and  to  a  farmer  the  one  will  sug- 
gest the  other.  But  to  a  jockey  the  idea  of  a  horse  suggests 
a  race,  and  to  a  tramp  rain  suggests  mud.  The  preference 
is  determined  by  the  interest  arising  from  taste  and  habit. 
Likewise  our  interpretation  of  events  is  determined  largely 
by  preference  in  associations  according  to  taste  and  habit.  ^ 

The  points  determining  preference  are  sometimes  stated 
as  the  secondary  laws  of  association,^  thus:  1.  Long  con- 
tinuance or  frequent  repetition  of  impression  confers  prefer- 
ence. This  is  by  the  general  law  of  habit.  2.  Natural 
adliesiveness  causes  preference.  One's  disposition,  as 
gloomy  or  cheerful,  his  taste,  as  vulgar  or  refined,  his 
talents,    as   for   languages   or   mathematics,    will   generally 

1  A  very  fine  illustration,  too  long  to  quote,  will  be  found  in  Merchant  of 
Venice,  A.  1,  sc.  1,  speecli  of  Salarino. 

When  Moses  and  Joshua  were  coming  down  from  the  mount,  and  heard 
from  far  the  noise  of  the  people  as  they  shouted,  the  warrior  said  with  mili- 
tary brevity :  — 

"  A  noise  of  war  in  the  camp." 

But  the  poet  said :  — 

"  Not  the  voice  of  them  that  shout  for  mastery, 
Nor  the  voice  of  them  that  cry  for  being  overcome, 
But  the  voice  of  them  that  sing,  do  I  hear."  —  Exodus  32  :  18. 

The  following  classical  illustration  is  taken  from  Helvetius  :  "The  passions 
not  only  concentrate  our  attention  on  certain  exclusive  aspects  of  the  objects 
which  they  present,  but  they  likewise  often  deceive  us  in  showing  these  same 
objects  where  they  do  not  exist.  The  story  is  well  known  of  a  parson  and 
a  gay  lady.  They  had  both  heard  that  the  moon  was  peopled,  believed  it, 
and  telescope  in  hand,  were  attempting  to  discover  the  inhabitants.  If  I 
am  not  mistaken,  says  the  lady,  who  looked  first,  I  perceive  two  shadows  ; 
they  bend  toward  each  other,  and  are  doubtless  two  happy  lovers.  Lovers, 
madam,  says  the  divine,  who  looked  next,  oh,  fie  !  The  two  shadows  you 
saw  are  the  two  steeples  of  a  cathedral.  This  story  is  the  history  of  mankind. 
In  general  we  perceive  only  in  things  what  we  are  desirous  of  finding.  On 
earth,  as  in  the  moon,  various  prepossessions  make  us  always  recognize 
either  lovers  or  cathedrals."  —  De  V  Esprit,  dis.  i,  ch.  2. 

2  See  Brown,  Phil,  of  Hum.  Mind,  §  37. 


186  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

give  direction  to  his  associations. ^     3.   Recentness  of  the  im- 
pression.    4.   Concentration  of  mind  in  attention. 

§  180.  The  English  school  of  psychologists  hold  that  the 
principle  of  association  is  the  fundamental  law  of  mind. 
All  our  psychic  states  are  merely  transformed  associations. 
"Not  only  our  intellectual  pleasures  and  pains,  but  all 
the  phenomena  of  memory,  imagination,  volition,  reasoning, 
and  every  other  affection  and  operation,  are  only  different 
modes  or  cases  of  the  association  of  ideas ;  so  that  nothing 
is  requisite  to  make  any  man  whatever  he  is,  but  a  sentient 
principle  with  this  single  property.  "^ 

We  have  endeavored  to  exhibit  the  princij^le  of  associa- 
tion, not  as  productiA^e  or  transforming,  but  as  merely  re- 
productive. It  is  unquestionably  of  wide  and  important 
consequence  in  mental  processes,  especially  as  underlying 
the  specific  faculties  of  representation.  To  these  we  now 
proceed. 

1  Says  Aristotle  in  De  Memoria:  "Certain  things  with  certain  minds 
become  more  intimately  associated  at  the  first  movement  than  with  other 
minds,  though  this  be  frequently  repeated.  Hence  it  is  that  some  objects 
which  we  have  seen  but  once  are  more  perfectly  remembered  by  us  than 
others  which  we  have  oftentimes  beheld." 

2  Priestley,  Hnrtleifs  Theory,  Int.  Essay,  p.  24.  The  whole  theory  of 
evolution  is  contained  in  the  last  clause. 

The  general  subject  is  discussed  by  Aristotle,  De  Mem.  et  Rem.,  ii,  8 ;  by 
Augustine,  Confessions,  lib.  x,  ch.  19  ;  by  Leibnitz,  JVouv.  Ess.,  I,  ii,  ch.  33  ; 
by  Hobbes,  Leviathan,  ch.  3 ;  and  by  Coleridge,  Biog.  Lit.,  chs.  5-7.  The 
theory  culminated  with  Hartley,  Observations  on  Man,  ch.  4.  He  found  in 
association  the  fundamental  law  of  mind,  which  alone  accounts  for  all  mental 
phenomena  whatever ;  the  prolific  principle,  which  evolves  from  mere  expe- 
rience all  our  activities  of  both  consciousness  and  conation.  He  held  that 
"transference"  is  the  generalization  of  this  process  (§175,  note).  The 
theory  has  been  variously  modified  by  its  chief  advocates,  .Tames  Mill,  John 
S.  Mill,  Bain,  and  Spencer,  but  in  its  essential  features  is  characteristic  of 
the  English  school  of  thinkers. 


MEMORY.  187 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MEMORY. 

§  181.  Memory  is  the  representation  of  a  past  experience. 
This  definition  implies  that  the  past  experience  is  repre- 
sented as  a  past  experience.  Memory  is  a  recognition,  a 
knowing  over  again,  a  consciousness  of  a  certain  mental 
image,  involving  the  conviction  that  this  image  now  repre- 
sents ideally  what  was  formerly  experienced  really. 

It  seems  to  be  an  nltimate  constitutional  fact,  which, 
therefore,  is  not  in  itself  susceptible  of  explanation,  that 
mind  tends  to  modes  consciously  similar  to  previous  modes, 
or  tends  to  a  conscious  repetition  of  its  modes,  and  this 
tendency,  in  respect  of  cognitions,  gives  rise  to  the  phenom- 
ena of  memory.     This  we  shall  call  the  theory  of  repetition.  ^ 

§  182.  There  is  in  an  act  of  memory,  a  primary  and  a 
secondary  judgment.  The  primary  is  a  psychological  judg- 
ment, a  fact  of  consciousness.  It  is  that  I  have  heretofore 
experienced  a  state  similar  to  the  one  now  present.  More 
than  this  it  does  not  afiirm.  It  makes  a  conscious  reference 
to  past  time,  but  is  wholly  indefinite  as  to  time  when.  This 
primary  judgment  may  not  attend  a  renewed  cognition.  A 
state  that  has  in  fact  been  experienced  before  may  seem  quite 
novel,   may  not   be   recognized.     Then   it  is   not   memory. 

1  A  thing  is  said  to  be  repeated  when  there  is  another  thing  numerically 
distinct,  but  otherwise  indistinguishable;  i.e.  precisely  similar.  They  are 
either  separate  in  space,  as  two  coins;  or  in  time,  as  a  double  rap ;  or  m 
both,  as  the  twin  Dromios.  Mental  states  are  repetitive  when  they  differ  in 
time  only.  An  act  of  memory  repeats  but  a  part.  When  I  represent  a 
former  presentation,  the  two  states  differ  in  many  respects  besides  time  ;  still 
some  common  or  repeated  element  produces  the  shock  of  similarity. 


188  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

But  when  this  judgment  does  occur,  recognition,  in  so  far, 
is  intuitive  and  unerring. 

That  this  is  a  psj^chologieal  judgment  is  evident.  The 
shock  and  judgment  of  simihxrity,  in  case  of  simultaneous 
impressions,  is  allowed  by  all  to  be  an  ultimate,  intuitive  fact 
of  consciousness.  Surely  in  case  of  successive  impressions, 
as  the  strokes  of  a  clock,  the  judgment  of  similarity  is  not 
less  a  fact  of  consciousness,  not  less  an  intuition. 

§  183.  The  secondary  judgment  of  memory  affirms  the 
time,  place,  and  circumstances  of  the  past  experience,  and 
constitutes  complete  recognition.  The  primary  judgment 
is  immediate  and  certain;  the  secondary  is  mediate,  and 
liable  to  error,  being  subsequent  and  inferred.  Hence  all 
distrust  of  memory  has  reference  exclusively  to  this  second- 
ary judgment.  For  we  are  very  apt  to  conjoin  circum- 
stances which  were  really  separate  in  time  and  place,  and  so 
to  mistake  an  act  of  imagination  for  one  of  memory.  ^ 

The  secondary  judgment  may  be  attended  by  any  degree 
of  belief,  from  the  faintest  suspicion,  up  to  the  highest  con- 
fidence, falling  just  short  of  strict  certainty.  The  degree  of 
this  belief  seems  to  correspond  with  the  degree  of  familiarity 
excited  by  the  incoming  circumstances. ^  When  this  feeling 
is  strong,  the  judgment  is  quite  pronounced  and  confident. 
In  case  two  points  belonging  to  my  past  experience  recur  in 
memory,  each  is  attended  by  its  own  degree  of  familiarity. 
If,  however,  they  originally  occurred  together,  their  recur- 

^  For  example,  on  meeting  a  man  I  recognize  him  as  one  I  met  yesterday. 
I  call  him  by  name,  and  speak  of  our  previous  meeting;  but  in  a  moment  he 
convinces  me  that  he  is  another  person  whom  I  have  never  met  before.  Did 
I  altogether  mistake  ?  Not  every  particular.  I  am  still  certain  that  the 
impression  he  made  was  in  some  respect  quite  similar  to  a  former  impression. 
My  error  was  solely  in  the  secondary  judgment.  The  trustworthiness  of 
one's  memory  lies  largely  in  the  ability  to  distinguish  between  a  real  and  an 
ideal  coneinuitance  of  circumstances. 

^  For  the  feelings  of  certainty  and  belief,  see  §  227.  For  familiarity  as  a 
basis  of  memory,  see  §  224. 


MEMORY.  189 

rence  is  attended  by  a  degree  of  familiarity  more  than  is  due 
to  their  sum,  for  to  this  sum  we  must  add  the  familiarity 
arising  from  their  original  connection.  Then  I  am  highly 
confident  that  the  two  originally  occurred  together,  i  Thus 
our  confidence  in  recollecting  a  past  fact  is  greatly  increased 
by  connecting  with  it  minute  and  otherwise  insignificant 
circumstances. 

§  184.  It  is  quite  evident  that  memory  acts  according  to 
the  laws  of  suggestion.  Its  primary  judgment  is  a  specific 
judgment  of  similarity,  one  relative  to  the  past.  This  cor- 
responds to  the  first  law  of  suggestion,  the  law  of  similarity. 
Its  secondary  judgment  is  a  judgment  of  totality,  bringing 
in  the  time,  place,  and  circumstances.  This  corresponds  to 
the  second  law,  the  law  of  association  or  redintegration.  The 
laws  of  suggestion,  therefore,  as  applied  to  cognitions,  are 
laws  of  memory. 

§  185.  The  law  of  memory  is  involved  in  the  more  general 
law  that  mind  tends  to  modes  similar  to  previous  modes,  or 
tends  to  repetition.  This  theory  of  repetition  is  in  contrast 
with  what  may  be  called  theories  of  retention. ^ 

One  of  these  holds  that  a  state  of  mind  excited  by  an 

1  It  has  often  been  asked,  for  instance,  why  it  is  that  on  trying  to  recall 
the  name  of  a  person  while  looking  at  him,  I  successively  reject  Smith,  Jones, 
and  others,  but  on  trying  Brown,  I  am  at  once  assured  that  this  is  his  name. 
Augustine,  Confessions,  bk.  x,  ch.  19,  gives  an  explanation  differing  from 
that  above. 

-  In  common  speech  the  phenomena  of  memory  are  usually  expressed 
metaphorically.  The  mind  is  said  to  retain  its  knowledge  and  to  revive  or 
reproduce  it  on  occasion.  Memory  is  a  storehouse  where  the  accumulations 
are  treasured  up,  a  thesaurus  omnium  rerum,  says  Cicero,  De  Oratore,  i,  5. 
It  is  a  bureau  where  facts  are  filed  for  reference,  a  reservoir  of  experiences, 
Tj  IMV-^M  awrvpia  aiadvcrews,  says  Plato,  PMlebus,  34  Steph.  All  such  figurative 
expressions  are  unscientific.  They  are  accommodations  to  be  tolerated  only 
in  the  poverty  of  language.  See  Locke,  Essay,  bk.  ii,  ch.  10,  §  2.  Yet 
many  psychologists  undertake  to  explain  how  mind  does  literally  retain  and 
reproduce  its  acquisitions. 


190  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

object  is  actuall}'  retained  ever  afterward  in  a  condition  of 
tension,  and  on  a  fit  occasion  springs  forth  into  conscious- 
ness. A  mental  activity  can  never  absolutely  cease  to  be. 
Its  predominance  is  lost,  but  the  activity  itself  does  not,  can 
not,  cease.  It  continues  as  an  activity  of  inferior,  and  it  may 
be  of  extremely  low,  tension,  until  some  combination  occurs 
that  revives  its  intensity,  when  it  reappears,  again  predomi- 
nant, and  the  same,  having  persisted  tlu'oughout.^ 

Two  objections  may  be  offered  in  passing.  All  agree  that 
my  consciousness  of  an  event  is  my  knowledge  of  that  event. 
But  according  to  the  theory,  my  knowledge  next  day  in 
memory  of  the  event  is  this  same  knowledge  revived. 
Hence  this  knowledge  in  memory  is  a  consciousness  of  the 
event  of  yesterday;  that  is,  I  am  conscious  of  the  past, 
which  is  absurd. 

A  perception  and  my  recollection  of  it  are  states  differing 
widely  in  kind.  The  one  is  relative  to  a  present  external 
object,  the  other  is  wholly  subjective;  the  one  is  passive, 
the  other  active;  the  one  is  attended  by  sensation,  the  other 
not.  There  is  a  similarity  amid  these  differences,  yet  they 
are  such  as  preclude  identity. 

§  186.  Other  psychologists  attribute  memory  to  physical 
action,  and  find  ground  in  the  brain  for  the  phenomena  of 
retention.  "We  know  what  are  the  conditions  of  makinsf 
an  acquirement,  or  of  fixing  two  or  more  things  together  in 

1  So  Herbart  and  his  followers.  See  especially  Schmidt,  Versiich  einer 
Metaphi/ftiJc  der  innern  Natur,  p.  231  sq.  This  view  was  adopted  by  Hamil- 
ton, who  defines  memory  as  "the  power  which  the  mind  possesses  of  retain- 
ing hold  of  the  knowledge  it  has  acquired."  —  ,l/e^(7.,  Lee.  30.  He  calls  it 
"the  conservative  or  retentive  faculty  in  which  the  phenomenon  of  retention 
is  the  central  notion." —  M,  p.  412.  He  distinguishes  it  sharply  from  "the 
reproductive  faculty,  or  the  process  by  which  what  is  lying  dormant  in 
memory  is  awakened."  —  Id.,  p.  427.  Bain  condemns  this  as  fictitious. — 
Logic,  p.  G40.  Yet  elsewhere  he  says :  "  The  fundamental  property  of  intel- 
lect, named  retentiveness,  supposes  that  somi'thing  lias  been  ingrained  in 
the  mental  structure  that  succeeding  impressions  have  not  been  able  to  blot 
out."  —  Senses  mid  Intellect,  p.  325. 


MEMOBY.  191 

memory.  The  separate  impressions  must  be  made  together, 
or  flow  in  close  succession,  and  they  must  be  held  together 
for  a  certain  length  of  time,  either  on  one  occasion  or  on 
repeated  occasions.  Now  to  each  impression,  each  sensation 
or  thought,  there  corresponds  physically  a  group  of  nerve- 
currents.  When  two  impressions  occur,  or  closely  succeed 
one  another,  the  nerve-currents  find  some  bridge  or  place 
of  continuity,  better  or  worse,  according  to  the  abundance 
of  nerve-matter  available  for  the  transition.  In  the  cells 
or  corpuscles  where  the  currents  meet  and  join,  there  is,  in 
consequence  of  the  meeting,  a  strengthened  connection  or 
a  diminished  obstruction,  a  preference  track  for  that  line 
over  other  lines  where  no  continuity  has  been  established. 
This  is  merely  a  hypothetical  rendering  of  the  facts,  yet  it  is 
a  very  probable  rendering."^ 

When  we  consider  the  concomitance  and  interdependence, 
the  mutual  action  and  reaction,  of  mind  and  brain,  and  the 
progressive  growth  and  gradually  confirmed  organization  of 
the  latter,  this  hj^othesis,  though  perhaps  too  specifically 
stated,  seems  plausible.  That  the  brain  acquires  prefer- 
ences is  possible,  and  if  so,  it  may  largely  determine  in 
spontaneous  memory  the  succession  of  images,  and  in  volun- 
tary memory  the  greater  ease  with  wliich  certain  lines  of 
thought  are  recalled.  As  in  perception,  the  mind  is  passive 
and  determined  to  its  special  state  by  the  condition  of  the 
excited  sensory,  so  it  is  conceivable  that  in  memory  it  may 
be  passively  determined  to  certain  successive  states  by  ac- 
quired brain  tendencies,  by  physical  preferences,  which  have 
become  established  through  habitual  exercise.^ 

1  Bain,  3lind  and  Body,  p.  117.  We  adopt  the  illustration  of  Gassendi, 
who  compares  mind  to  a  sheet  of  paper  which  is  capable  of  receiving  very 
many  folds,  and  which  not  only  repeats  those  in  which  it  has  been  often 
or  sharply  laid,  ^'■vernm  etiam  possint  facili  negotio  excitari,  redire,  appa- 
rare,  quatenns  una  plica  arrepta,  cceterce,  quae  in  eadem  serie  quasi  sjwnte 
seqimntur.'''' — Physica,  lib.  viii,  ch.  .3,  §  3. 

2  This  will  explain  why  aged  persons  often  have  a  vivid  memory  of  early 
events,  and  one  dim  of  those  recent,  as  illustrated  by  the  character  Elspeth 


192  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

This  supposed  transference  of  cause  from  the  mental  to 
the  physical  sphere  has  an  analogous  precedent  in  the  ac- 
quisition of  physical  dexterities  and  habits  under  the  law 
of  reflex  action  (§  37).  We  may  conceive  that  as  muscular 
movements,  originally  voluntarj^,  become  by  habit  involun- 
tary physical  instincts,  a  ganglionic  nervous  centre  acquir- 
ing the  power  to  determine  and  co-ordinate  them  as  j)urely 
reflex  actions,  so  brain  may  acquire  such  conformation  as  to 
determine  automatically  a  series  of  states,  and  their  con- 
comitant states  of  consciousness.  Such  transference  from 
the  mental  to  the  physical  seems  to  be  according  to  laws  of 
growth  and  complete  development.  ^ 

in  Scott's  Antiqiiary.  We  may  suppose  that  in  old  age  certain  lines  of  cere- 
bral communication  have  become  iixed,  and  the  brain  indurated  by  a  sort  of 
organic  crystallization,  with  a  loss  of  youthful  plasticity  and  the  power  of 
forming  new  combinations. 

The  hypothesis  is  helpful  in  accounting  for  the  loss  of  speciiic  memories. 
Dr.  Beattie  lost,  for  some  time,  from  a  blow  on  the  head,  his  knowledge  of 
Greek,  whilst  his  other  mental  stores  were  left  intact.  Ballantyne  relates 
of  Scott  that  when  J'he  Bride  of  Lammermoor  was  submitted  to  him  after 
an  illness,  he  did  not  recognize  it  as  his  own,  though  the  original  tradition 
was  still  clearly  remembered. 

We  often  hear  of  cases  of  marvellous  power  of  memory,  and  they  make 
on  us  the  impression  that  the  power  is  unlimited.  But  every  one  is  a  block- 
head in  something,  and  memory  in  the  lines  of  incapacity  is  a  rope  of  sand. 
Moreover,  much  improvement  in  later  life  is  a  substitution,  which  is  not  an 
addition,  of  mature  for  immature  judgments.  We  lose  at  one  end  as  much 
as  is  gained  at  the  other.  Newton,  turned  theologian,  forgot  his  own  scien- 
tific discoveries  ;  and  Erasmus  forgot  his  mother-tongue  in  favor  of  Latin. 
These  limits  to  memory  are  best  explained  by  identifying  them  with  the 
limited  capacity  of  the  brain  to  receive  and  retain  lines  of  preferred  activity. 

1  Spencer  carries  this  very  far.  "  Memory  belongs  to  that  class  of  psychi- 
cal states  which  are  in  i^rogress  of  being  organized.  It  continues  so  long  as 
the  oi-ganization  of  them  continues,  and  disappears  when  the  organization  of 
them  is  complete."  Memory  is  "incipient  instinct,"  and  instinct  "a  kind 
of  organized  memory,"  it  is  "Inherited  experience." — Prinnplcs  of  Psy- 
chology, §§  102,  202.  Birds  instinctively  building  tiicir  nests  are  exercising 
a  fully  organized,  and  so  obsolete,  inherited  memory.  They  are,  then,  more 
completely  developed  beings  than  we,  who  are  In  an  earlier,  transition  stage. 
Humanity,  then,  is  running  down  to  the  brutal  forms.  But  how  did  we  ever 
get,  from  our  zoophyte  beginning,  up  to  our  present  unstable  height?  Does 
evolution  work  butli  ways  at  once? 


MEMORY.  193 

It  appears  reasonable,  therefore,  to  accept  the  hypothesis 
that,  as  a  result  of  mental  exercise,  the  concomitant  activi- 
ties of  the  brain  induce  lines  of  preferred  or  more  facile 
nervous  action,  having  various  degrees  of  permanence,  which 
determine  subsequent  mental  tendencies.^  But  this  hypoth- 
esis cannot  be  held  exclusively.  It  is  not  sufficient  to 
account  for  all  the  facts.  It  does  not  explain  voluntary 
recollection,  wherein  will  determines  the  train  of  images. 
It  affords  no  explanation  of  first  spontaneous  memories, 
wherein  experiences  often  recur  to  us  for  the  first  time  with 
a  vividness  and  vigor  surpassing  old  established  memo- 
ries ;  nor  why  recentness  of  impression  is  a  special  occasion 
of  vivid  memory.  Hence  the  theory  of  a  mental  tendency 
to  repetition  is  held  by  us  as  expressing  the  original  and 
ultimate  ground  of  memory;  and  the  theory  of  physical 
retention  is  allowed  as  supplementary. 

§  187.  Having  defined  memory,  and  discussed  the  princi- 
ples and  causes  to  which  it  is  to  be  referred,  we  now  turn  to 
examine  its  kinds.  A  distinction  is  taken  according  as 
memory  is  exercised  spontaneously,  called  remembrance,  or 
under  the  direction  of  will,  called  recollection. ^ 

In  remembrance  one  image  follows  another,  according  to 
the  laws  of  suggestion  and  involving  a  reference  to  past 
time,  without  the  intervention  of  will.  The  mind  is  passive, 
operating  spontaneously,  and  Ave  are  reminded  of  things 
simply  and  solely  as  they  hapj^en  to  be  similar  or  associated, 
without   any  exercise  of   choice.     It  is  so  in   reverie.     In 

^  In  that  case  it  is  tlie  brain,  and  not  the  mind,  which  is  retentive  of 
impressions,  but  not  of  knowledge,  much  as  the  printed  page  retains  its 
story,  or  the  worn  channel  its  current.  Brain  is  the  bank  of  deposit  which, 
when  drawn  upon,  yields  not  the  same,  but  similar  and  equivalent  knowledge. 
The  beaten  and  established  paths  are  preferred  by  mind  in  subsequent 
movements.  Or,  to  speak  literally,  neural  states  facilitated  by  exercise  tend 
to  siiperinduce  mental  states  similar  to  those  previously  concurring. 

2  The  distinction  dates  from  Aristotle,  and  occurs  even  in  the  title  of  his 
treatise,  De  Mem.  et  Bern.,  wepl  ixvrjfj.i]s  Kal  dvdfj.vr]cn^. 


194  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

dreams,  also,  we  have  an  illustration  of  mere  remembrances, 
the  absence  of  a  directing  will  over  the  train  of  images  being 
characteristic  of  dreaming. 

Remembrance  or  involuntary  memory  may  be  subdivided 
into  simple  recognition  or  reminiscence,  and  complex  recog- 
nition or  remembrance  proper.  We  are  often  reminded  of 
something,  with  a  sense  of  familiarity,  but  without  any 
remembrance  of  the  time,  place,  or  circumstances  of  tlie 
former  experience.  This  is  simple  recognition  or  reminis- 
cence, the  law  of  repetition  alone  being  effective.^  When, 
however,  the  law  of  redintegration  also  becomes  involun- 
tarily effective,  suggesting  the  time,  place,  or  other  associ- 
ated circumstances,  this  fuller  reminding  may  be  distin- 
guished as  complex  recognition,  or  remembrance  proper, 

§  188.  Recollection  is  voluntary  or  intentional  memory. 
It  is  an  activity,  a  deliberate  choice  being  followed  by  an 
endeavor  to  recall  something  fully  to  mind.  The  special 
function  of  will  is  to  fix  attention,  to  concentrate  conscious- 
ness on  a  chosen  object  (§  89).  The  immediate  effect  is  to 
intensify  the  consciousness  of  the  chosen  object  at  the 
expense  of  others  within  its  sphere,  according  to  the  law  of 
limitation  (§  83).  A  further  consequence  is  that  the 
adhering  states  are  brought  into  clear  consciousness  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  redintegration  (§  174).  Thus  we  re-col- 
lect the  former  circumstances.  From  among  these  we  may 
then  choose  one  as  a  new  object  of  attention,  and  repeating 

1  From  such  vague  impressions  Plato  drew  an  argument  for  the  pre-exist- 
ence  of  the  soul ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  easy  to  fancy  that  they  are  memories  of 
a  previous  life,  of  another  \^rld.  So  Wordsworth,  in  his  famous  ode,  "  Inti- 
mations of  Immortality  "  :  — 

"  Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting ; 
The  soul  that  rises  with  lis,  our  life's  star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 
And  conieth  from  afar. 
Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory,  do  we  come 
From  God,  who  is  our  home." 


MEMORY.  195 

the  process  determine   continuously  the  succession   of   the 
intellectual  train. 

The  subjective  correlative  of  will  is  desire  (§§  71,  74).  An 
effort  to  recollect  implies  a  want,  it  is  an  endeavor  to  gratify 
a  desire,  e.g.  curiosity.  But  desire  is  conditioned  on  cogni- 
tion. This  implies  that  the  thing  we  seek  for  intentionally 
in  memory  is  not  wholly  out  of  consciousness,  not  wholly 
unknown.  We  cannot  endeavor  to  recollect  something  of 
which  we  have  at  present  no  remembrance  whatever.  "  We 
still  hold  of  it,  as  it  were,  a  part,  and  b}^  this  part  which  we 
hold  we  seek  that  which  we  do  not  hold."^  Throughout  the 
process,  the  effort  is  stimulated  by  the  want,  which  at  its 
close  is  satisfied,  and  both  together  cease. ^ 

1  Augustine,  Confessions,  lib.  x,  ch.  18. 

2  The  process  of  recollecting  may  be  illustrated  thus :  Suppose  I  wish  to 
make  a  quotation,  but  have  in  mind  only  the  first  few  words,  "  Take  physic, 
pomp  ;  —  "  I  repeat  this  much  over  and  over  with  close  attention,  but  what 
follows  does  not  recur.  I  then  turn  my  attention  to  some  associated  circum- 
stances, and  fix  on  Shakspeare  as  its  author.  His  name  suggests  the  titles 
of  his  plays.  I  run  these  over  in  mind,  and  the  fragment  seems  best  suited 
to,  or  most  familiar  in  connection  with  King  Lear.  I  recall  attentively  one 
and  another  of  the  characters  of  the  tragedy,  and  it  strikes  me  as  most  likely 
that  Lear  himself  would  use  such  words.  I  then  picture  with  attention  his 
several  situations,  and  the  storm  scene  apparently  connects  with  the  words. 
I  recall  the  image  of  the  hovel,  and  the  humiliated  king  stooping  to  enter  it ; 
then  his  words  come  in  full  to  mind  ;  I  can  almost  hear  him  saying :  — 

"  Take  physic,  pomp; 
Expose  thyself  to  feel  what  wretches  feel, 
That  thou  raayst  shake  the  superflux  to  them, 
And  shew  the  heavens  more  just."  —  A.  3,  bc.  4. 

Says  Aristotle :  "When  we  accomplish  an  act  of  recollection,  we  pass 
through  a  certain  series  of  precursive  movements  until  we  arrive  at  a  move- 
ment on  which  the  one  we  are  in  quest  of  is  habitually  consequent.  Thus  it 
is  that  we  hunt  through  the  mental  train."  Perhaps  this  suggested  the  com- 
parison of  Longinus :  "For  as  dogs,"  says  he,  "having  once  found  the 
footsteps  of  their  game,  follow  from  trace  to  trace,  deeming  it  already  all 
but  caught,  so  he  who  would  recover  his  past  cognitions  from  oblivion  must 
speculate  the  parts  which  remain  to  him  of  these  cognitions,  and  the  circum- 
stances with  which  they  chance  to  be  connected,  to  the  end  that  he  shall 
light  on  something  which  shall  serve  him  for  a  starting-point  from  whence 
to  follow  out  his  recollection  of  the  others." 


196  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

§  189.  A  distinction  of  some  practical  importance  is  that 
between  circumstantial  and  philosophic  memory.  Circum- 
stantial memory  is  dependent  on  accidental  relations,  such  as 
the  sensuous  or  superficial  resemblance  of  things,  their  anal- 
ogies, their  contrarieties,  their  vicinity  in  time  or  place,  or 
other  insignihcant  coincidences.  A  philosophic  memory  is 
determined  by  essential  relations,  such  as  cause  and  effect, 
means  and  end,  premises  and  conclusion,  associating  things 
by  their  scientific  affinities  and  logical  connection.  The  first 
is  manifested  by  childi-en,  or  by  undisciplined  minds  gener- 
ally, and  seems  more  natural ;  the  second  is  rather  a  result 
of  intellectual  education,  and  seems  more  artificial.  The 
one  is  read}^  and  quick,  and  often  surprises  us  ^yith  its 
extent,  variety,  and  minute  accuracy  of  detail;  the  other 
appears  sluggish,  is  complained  of  as  defective,  and  fails  in 
non-essential  particulars.  All  minds  make  use  of  both;  but 
with  one  class  of  minds  the  former,  with  another  class,  the 
latter,  kind  of  memory  is  lu-edominant  and  habitual. ^ 

1  In  looking  up  a  quotation,  one  person  can  tell  whereabouts  in  the  book 
it  occurs,  whether  on  the  right  or  left  hand  page,  and  whether  at  top,  middle, 
or  bottom  ;  another  person  recalls  only  its  logical  connection  with  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  book.  A  punster  and  a  rhymster  are  engaged  by  accidental 
coincidences  in  the  sound  of  syllables ;  a  wit  and  a  poet  are  occupied  with 
the  inner,  subtile,  and  delicate  logic  implied  in  the  expression.  Magliabecchi, 
librarian  to  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  was  asked  to  produce  a  certain  rare 
book.  '•  It  is  impossible,"  said  he  ;  "  there  is  but  one  in  the  world,  and  that 
is  in  the  Grand  Seignior's  library  at  Constantinople,  the  seventh  book,  on 
the  fifth  shelf,  on  the  right  hand  as  you  go  in."  Montaigne,  whose  cast  of 
mind  was  reflective  and  speculative,  more  tenacious  of  principles  than  of 
facts,  complained  of  want  of  memory.  "I  am  forced,"  says  he,  "to  call 
my  servants  by  the  names  of  their  employments,  or  by  the  countries  where 
they  were  born,  for  I  can  hardly  remember  their  proper  names  ;  and  if  I 
should  live  long,  I  question  whether  I  should  remember  my  own  name." 

All  the  great  masters  of  human  nature  mark  the  distinction.  Cervantes 
makes  Sancho  Panza,  the  boor,  talk  very  circumstantially ;  but  Don  Quixote, 
the  cultivated  man,  though  crazed  and  absurd,  is  made  to  talk  quite  i)hilo- 
sophically.  But  compare,  especially,  Hostess  Quickley's  speech  before  the 
Chief  Justice,  in  King  Henry  IV,  pt.  ii,  Act  2,  so.  1,  with  that  of  Lady  Percy 
to  Northumberland,  so.  3. 


MEMORY.  197 

Circumstantial  memory  is  often  used  specifically  to 
strengthen  bonds  of  the  same  sort,  or  to  supplement  philo- 
sophic memory,  and  confirm  its  more  uncertain  adhesions.^ 
Mnemonics,  the  art  of  memory,  memoria  technica^  is  an 
expansion  of  this  principle  into  a  system.  The  possession 
of  such  artificial  means  accounts  for  many  wonderful  feats 
of  memory.  Ver}^  many  systems  have  been  devised,  but 
they  are  of  little  value,  the  adhesions  being  only  temporary.^ 

1  The  familiar  doggerel,  "Thirty  days  hath  September,"  etc.,  is  useful  in 
its  way.  The  word  vihgyor,  composed  of  the  initials  of  the  seven  prismatic 
colors,  helps  us  to  remember  them  in  their  order.  A  quaint  phrase  serves  a 
similar  end  ;  as,  "  Shakspeare  died  in  the  two  sixteens,"  i.e.  a.d.  1616.  The 
scholastic  logic  abounded  in  mnemonic  devices,  the  most  famous  and  useful 
one  being  the  hexameters  beginning  "  Barbara,  Celarent,"  etc. 

2  It  is  highly  probable  that  such  a  system  was  used  by  Seneca,  who  boasts 
that  on  one  occasion,  two  hundred  unconnected  verses  having  been  pro- 
nounced in  his  hearing,  he  repeated  them  in  reverse  order.  The  feat  of  the 
law-student  of  Padua,  cited  by  Muretus,  and  recited  amazedly  by  Hamilton, 
Meta.,  p.  421  sq.,  was  doubtless  of  this  sort,  for  he  proposed  to  teach  a 
fellow-student  the  art;  hence  his  '■'■farinus  mirificissimum''''  is  unworthy  of 
so  much  sterile  astonishment.  Simonides,  the  Greek  poet,  5th  century  n.c., 
invented  a  system  which  is  described  by  Quintilian.  When  Simonides  pro- 
posed to  teach  Themistocles  his  art,  Themistocles,  whose  natural  power  of 
memory  was  such  that  he  knew  by  name  each  of  the  twenty  thousand  citi- 
zens of  Athens,  replied:  "I  had  rather  you  should  teach  me  the  art  of 
forgetting."  He  had  found  that  memory,  like  other  gifts,  is  the  curse  of  the 
gods  when  they  give  too  much.  "Si  la  souvenir  embellit  la  vie,  I'oubli  seul 
la  rend  possible.  Dieu  a  mesure  la  peine  a  nos  forces  en  nous  donnant 
I'oubli."  Sophocles  pronounced  memory  the  queen  of  powers,  nnd  the 
earlier  Greeks  affirmed  that  the  nine  Muses  were  the  daughters  of  Zeus  and 
Mnemosyne. 


198  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER   V. 

IMAGINATION. 

§  190.  The  representative  state,  considered  generically, 
is  called  an  image,  the  act  an  imaging.  Having  thus  far 
found  these  terms  sufficient,  Ave  have  reserved  the  word 
imagmation,  with  its  conjugates,  to  imagine,  imaginari/,  etc., 
as  exclusively  applicable  to  the  mode  of  representation  now 
before  us,  co-ordinate  with  memory  and  thought. 

Imagination  is  the  representation  of  an  ideal  object.  In 
this  definition  it  is  needful  to  explain  the  specific  difference, 
ideal  object.  There  are  two  spheres  of  cognition,  or  two 
kinds  of  objects  of  knowledge,  the  real  and  the  ideal.  The 
real  object  is  one  that  truly  exists  either  objectively,  being 
given  in  perception,  or  subjectively,  given  in  self-percep- 
tion ;  or  it  is  one  that  actually  has  been,  and  is  now  repre- 
sented in  memory.  The  unreal  is  that  which  does  not,  and 
perhaps  never  did,  exist,  a  negation  of  the  real,  and  so 
furnishing  no  object  of  cognition.  Now,  by  the  logical  law 
of  excluded  middle,  there  can  be  nothing  between  the  real 
and  unreal ;  yet  the  mind  has  power  to  consider  a  real  object 
as  unreal,  that  is,  to  disregard  the  fact,  and  also  power  to 
form  images  or  ideas  rei)resenting  things  that  are  in  fact 
unreal.  Such  objects  are  ideal  objects,  and  the  act  represent- 
ing them  is  imagination. 

§  191.  In  memory  the  representation  is  judged  to  be  of  a 
past  experience;  in  imagination  it  is  not  so  judged.  In 
other  words,  the  objects  of  memory  are  facts  of  experience ; 
those  of  imagination  may  or  ma}'  not  be  facts  of  experience, 
the  question  is  not  considered,  the  representation  is  in  disre- 
['\Y(\  of  experience. 


IMAGINATION.  199 

"  Memory  is  an  immediate  knowledge  of  a  present  idea, 
involving  an  absolute  belief  that  this  idea  represents  another 
act  of  knowledge  that  has  been.  Imagination  is  an  immedi- 
ate knowledge  of  an  actual  idea,  which,  as  not  subjectively 
self-contradictor}^,  but  logically  possible,  involves  the  hypo- 
thetical belief  that  it  objectively  may  be,  that  it  is  really 
possible."  1  Imagination  is  productive;  memory  is  merely 
reproductive.  The  object  represented  in  memory  is  real; 
that  represented  in  imagination  may  be  unreal.  Memory 
is  mediate  knowledge  of  tlie  actual  in  the  past;  imagina- 
tion is  mediate  knowledge  of  the  possible  in  the  past,  pres- 
ent, or  future. 2  The  ideas  or  images  in  both  cases  are  real, 
but  they  diifer  in  their  origin  and  in  their  objects. 

§  1#2.  The  sphere  of  the  real  is  finite ;  that  of  the  unreal 
is  infinite.  Mind  trangresses  the  bounds  of  the  real,  and 
forms  for  itself  ideal  objects  in  the  boundless  unreal.  But 
there  are  limits  to  its  excursive  power.  That  imagination 
is  conditioned  on  memory  is  one  limitation.  Although  it 
disregards   experience,   it  cannot  transgress  the   bounds  of 

1  Hamilton,  Discussions^  p.  58,  Am.  eel. 

2  Were  this  power  wholly  lacking,  we  should  be  unable  to  devise  for  the 
future,  or  to  anticipate  and  provide  for  even  the  next  coming  moment.  All 
hope,  all  reasonable  forecast  of  events,  all  inspired  prophecy,  the  history  of 
the  future,  are  wrought  out  by  imagination,  and  then  become  memories  as 
time  flows  by.  The  young,  says  Aristotle,  live  forwards  in  hope,  the  old  live 
backwards  in  memory.  —  Rhet. ,  ii,  if^  The  following  lines  of  Shelley  mark 
the  distinction :  — 

"  You  are  not  here !  the  quaint  witch  Memory  sees 
In  vacant  chairs  your  absent  images, 
And  points  where  once  you  sat,  and  now  should  be, 
But  are  not.    I  demand  if  ever  we 
Shall  meet  as  then  we  met;  and  she  replies. 
Veiling  in  awe  her  second-sighted  eyes  : 
'I  know  the  past  alone;  but  summon  home 
My  sister  Hope,  she  speaks  of  all  to  come.' 
But  I,  an  old  diviner,  who  know  well 
Every  false  verse  of  that  sweet  oracle, 
Turned  to  the  sad  enchantress  once  again, 
And  sought  a  respite  from  ray  gentle  pain. 
By  acting  every  passage  o'er  and  o'er, 
Of  our  communion." 


200  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

experience.  At  the  furthest  extreme,  its  images  are  com- 
binations of  partial  experiences  given  by  memory;  it  is 
only  the  combination  that  is  new.^  The  limitation  is  not 
to  objects  of  sight,  nor  in  general  to  those  of  sense. ^  All 
presentations,  external  and  internal,  all  sensations,  emo- 
tions, desires,  affections,  volitions,  and  thoughts  furnish, 
through  memory,  materials  for  imagination.  Whatever  can 
be  remembered  can  be  idealized.  The  true  linutation  is 
experience  reproduced  in  memory. 

A  second  limitation :  Imagination,  being  representative  of 
an  intuition,  is,  like  intuition,  possible  only  on  condition 
that  its  immediate  object  be  individual.  If  we  try  to  form 
the  image  of  a  triangle,  it  must  be  of  some  individual  figure. 
To  the  individual  is  opposed  the  general.  I  can  foi-ni  no 
image  of  the  general.  The  notion  triangle  can  attain  to 
generality  only  by  surrendering  distinct  existence  in  space. 
Nature  and  fact  do  not  present  the  general,  but  only  indi- 

1  "  For  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  most  exalted  wit  or  enlarged  under- 
standing, by  any  quickness  or  variety  of  thought,  to  invent  or  frame  one 
new  simple  idea  in  the  mind.  The  dominion  of  man,  in  this  little  world  of 
his  own  understanding,  is  much  the  same  as  it  is  in  the  great  world  of  visible 
things,  wherein  his  power,  however  managed  by  art  and  skill,  reaches  no 
further  than  to  compound  or  divide  the  materials  that  are  made  to  his  hand, 
but  can  do  nothing  towards  the  making  the  least  particle  of  new  matter,  or 
destroying  one  atom  of  what  is  already  in  being."  —  Locke,  Essay,  h^i.  ii, 
ch.  2,  §  2.  Experience  is  the  quarry  whence  memory  draws  the  materials 
with  which  imagination  (Ger.  Einhildungskraft)  builds. 

Hume  asks,  however,  whether  one  who  had  seen  blue  and  yellow,  but  not 
green,  would  not  be  able  to  form  an  idea  of  green  by  compounding  the  others 
in  imagination. 

2  We  most  readily  represent  visual  objects,  and  thi§  with  surpassing  clear- 
ness and  accuracy,  and  so  become  slaves  to  the  eye,  —  a  despotism  from 
which  Tythagoras  by  his  mimeral  and  Plato  by  his  musical  symbols,  as  the 
first  irpoiraidevTiKdv  of  the  mind,  .sought  to  emancipate  their  disciples.  See 
Fhoido,  GO  Ste.  Some  writers  have  so  far  yielded  to  this  sway  of  the  eye  as 
to  teach  that  imagination  is.  limited  to  visual  ol)jects.  So  Addison,  Pleasures 
of  r may..  Sped.  40;  and  Reid,  Intellect.  Powers,  Essay,  iv,  ch.  1.  Others 
teach  that  it  is  limited  to  objects  of  sense.  So  Stewart,  Elements,  pt.  i,  cli. ;] ; 
and  also  Descartes,  who  says:  "Tmagiiiari  nihil  aliud  est  quam  rei  corporese 
figuram  seu  imaginem  contemplari."  —  ^Jed.,  ii. 


IMA  GIN  A  TION.  201 

viduals,  having  each  a  distinct  existence  in  space  or  time.i 
My  experience,  then,  is  only  of  individuals ;  and  as  images 
are  representations  of  experience,  they  are  limited  to  indi- 
viduals. 

The  third  limitation  of  imagination  is  common  to  all 
powers  of  knowledge.  Every  cognitive  experience  is  con- 
ditioned on  pure  ideas  and  principles,  discerned  by  reason, 
acting  as  regulative,  or  rather  as  limitative,  of  cognition 
(§  151).  These,  then,  set  bounds  that  imagination  cannot 
transcend.  We  cannot  imagine  a  body  out  of  space,  or  an 
uncaused  event,  or  an  absolute  beginning  or  ending,  or  con- 
tradictories coexistent,  or  irresponsible  personal  actions. 
Beyond  the  sphere  thus  strictly  circumscribed,  imagination 
cannot  pass.  The  light  dove  cleaving  in  free  flight  the  thin 
air,  whose  resistance  she  feels,  might  think  that  her  move- 
ments would  be  far  more  free  and  rapid  in  air-less  space. 
But  her  flight  fails  from  lack  of  support  even  in  the  rare 
regions,  long  before  she  reaches  the  invisible  yet  absolute 
limit,  beyond  which  the  lightest  wing  can  never  soar.  So 
within  a  vast  unmeasured  region  of  pure  ideas,  the  atmos- 
phere of  reality,  imagination  may  play,  but  not  beyond. 

§  193.  Within  these  limits,  imagination  shows  various 
modes  of  activity.  Certain  differences  fairly  distinguish 
kinds;  others  seem  to  be  marks  rather  of  degree.  One 
mode  of  exercise  we  will  call  the  simple  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  complex  or  productive  imagination. 

Simple  imagination  consists  in  the  transfer  of  an  object 
from  the  real  to  the  ideal  sphere.  It  represents  an  object 
that  is  real  without  reference  to  its  reality,  that  is,  in  disre- 
gard of  the  fact;  as,  If  the  sun  be  now  in  the  sky.  Here  a 
known  reality  is  idealized:  the  matter  is  treated  hypotheti- 
cally.  Another  simple  exercise  is  to  idealize  in  spite  of 
fact,  taking  the  obverse  of  reality;  as.  Were  the  sun  not  in 

1  See  Mansel,  Metaphysics,  p.  129. 


^02  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

the  sky.  To  realize  is  the  converse  of  to  idealize ;  it  is  to 
bring  matter  from  the  ideal  sphere  into  the  real ;  as,  But  the 
sun  is  now  in  the  sky.  The  obsolescence  of  the  subjunc- 
tive mood,  which  is  the  ideal  mode  of  speech,  indicates  a 
common  neglect  of  these  distinctions. 

§  194.  From  the  individual  objects  presented  to  sense, 
external  or  internal,  and  represented  in  memory,  thought 
abstracts  qualities,  and  forms  representative  notions  by 
combining  them  into  new  qualitative  wholes ;  this  is  anal}'- 
sis  and  synthesis.  From  such  individual  objects,  the  com- 
plex or  productive  imagination  severs  parts,  and  forms  ideas 
by  recombining  them  into  new  quantitative  wholes,  into  new 
individuals ;  this  is  dissection  and  construction.  The  objects 
thus  represented  are  contingent  or  unreal,  the  only  actual 
existence  being  the  factitious  images  or  ideas  of  the  mind, 
representing  what  would  be  possible  to  intuition,  and  cor- 
responding to  objects  merely  hypothetical.^ 

Dissection  and  composition  constitute  one  special  exercise 
of  the  productive  faculty.  It  may,  however,  merely  alter 
proportions,  or  size,  or  motion,  making  transformations  as  to 
space  or  time.  The  former  species  is  constructive  imagi- 
nation; the  latter  is  plastic  imagination. ^ 

1  Thus  out  of  materials  funiished  by  memory  are  constructed  new  geo- 
metrical figures,  new  mechanical  inventions,  palaces  of  pearl,  satyrs  and 
mermaids,  all  fabulous  monsters  and  events,  the  novelties  of  prose  fiction, 
the  creations  of  poesy  and  art.  For  an  excellent  example  of  dissection  and 
composition,  see  the  description  of  Chimera  by  Homer,  Iliad,  vi,  144  sq.;  and 
by  Hesiod,  Theoffony,  v,  322  sq. 

2  Hence  the  grotesque  Caliban,  the  fantastic  Touchstone,  and  the  extrava- 
gant Parolles.  Hence  the  Brobdignags  and  Lilliputians,  the  nut-shell  car  of 
Queen  Mab  (Romeo  and  Juliet,  A.  1,  sc.  4),  the  golden  car  of  Juno  {Iliad, 
v),  and  the  great  chariot  of  the  Sun-god  Phoebus.  Time,  space,  and  motion 
are  its  subjects.  It  expands  a  geologic  cycle  to  myriads  of  centuries,  com- 
presses the  stellar  system  to  a  celestial  vault,  and  inspires  Puck's  prophetic 
brag:  "  I'll  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth  in  forty  minutes."  —  Midswn- 
mer  XiyhVs  Dream,  A.  2,  sc.  1. 

Are  its  productions  creations  ?  Is  imagination  creative  ?  Creation  is  the 
bringing  into  existence  what  did  not  before  exist.     Bringing  order  out  of 


IMAGINATION.  203 

§  195.  Other  distinctions  may  be  taken,  determining 
varieties  according  to  the  reLative  predominance  of  co-operat- 
ing activities.  The  first  cLaiming  our  attention  is  character- 
ized negatively  by  the  absence  of  volitional  control. 

Involuntary  imagination  is  spontaneous,  without  choice. 
Phantasy  is  an  appropriate  name  for  this  variety.  The 
phantoms  that  fright  us  in  the  dark,  the  spectral  voices  that 
we  hear,  the  odd,  ludicrous,  and  absurd  ideas  that  strike  us, 
are  among  its  products.  Phantasies  have  an  instinctive 
origin.  Slental  instincts  are  the  promptings  of  blind  de- 
sires ;  that  is,  of  such  as  are  not  directed  by  thought.  These 
arouse  imagination  to  a  disordered  activity,  producing  the 
fantastic.  Phantasy,  therefore,  is  characterized  by  the  im- 
pulsion of  desire  in  the  absence  of  intelligent  choice. ^ 

Dreams  afford  familiar  examples  of  phantasms.  They 
have  already  been  noted  as  involuntary  memories  (§  187)  ;  but 
perhaps  their  images  are  less  memories  than  new  combi- 
nations, "  wherein  blind  phantasy  would  fain  interpret  to  the 
mind  the  painful  sensations  of  distempered  sleep."  ^  Reverie, 
castle-building,  or  day-dreaming  is  a  pleasing  play  of  phan- 
tasy, not,  however,  altogether  pure,  since  a  fanciful  purpose 
generally  gives   some    voluntary  direction  to  the   combina- 

chaos  is  a  creation.  Order,  laarmony,  fitness,  new  proportions,  new  combi- 
nations into  new  wholes,  are  creations,  and  he  who  produces  these  is  a  maker, 
TToiijTT??,  a  poet.  "Though  there  were  many  clever  men  in  England  during 
the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,"  says  Macaulay,  "there  were 
only  two  great  creative  minds.  One  of  those  minds  produced  the  Pai-adise 
Lost,  the  other  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.'"  —  Esscnj  on  Southey''s  Bunyan. 
Shakspeare,  "I'homme  qui  a  le  plus  cree  apres  Dieu,"  out -doing  history, 
has  peopled  his  realm  with  immortals.  The  Black  Prince  was,  but  is  not ; 
Prince  Hamlet  was  not,  but  is,  and  will  be  forever. 

1  From  (t>a.vTa.^eLv,  to  cause  to  appear.  Gurney  defines  a  sensory  halluci- 
nation to  be  "a  percept  which  lacks,  but  which  can  only  by  distinct  reflection 
be  recognized  as  lacking,  the  objective  basis  which  it  suggests."  —  In  Mind, 
No.  38,  p.  163.  This  scarcely  differs  from  illusion.  See  §  160,  note.  We 
take  illusion  to  be  the  genus,  and  hallucination  its  species,  differentiated  by 
being  abnormal. 

2  The  will  resigns  control,  and  these  sensations,  together  with  appetites 


204  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

tions.    The  craze  of  delirium  and  of  monomania  are  extreme 
cases.^ 

§  196.  Let  us  consider  here,  once  for  all,  the  relation  of 
imagination  to  brain  action.  It  has  been  scientifically  ascer- 
tained that  when  the  inner"*  organ  of  sight  is  disorganized, 
it  becomes  impossible  to  image  scenes ;  and  we  hold  it  gen- 
erally true  that  all  mental  activities  are  specially  conditioned 
on  concomitant  brain  action  (§  143).  Voluntary  efforts  of 
imagination  doubtless  require  for  their  success  a  physical 
response,  a  corresponding  molecular  movement  of  the  brain 
substance,  probably  that  of  the  inner  organ  of  the  sense 
originally  presenting  such  objects  as  are   now  represented.^ 

and  other  forms  of  desire,  impelling  blindly  in  the  general  torpor  of  intelli- 
gence, arouse  imagination  to  unchecked  extravagance. 

"  When  nature  rests, 
Oft  in  her  absence  mimic  fancy  wakes 
To  imitate  her;  but,  misjoining  shapes, 
Wild  worlv  produces  oft,  ;ind  most  in  dreams, 
III  matching  words  and  deeds  long  past  or  late." 

—  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  bk.  v,  109  sq. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  power  of  self-control  seems  to  have  so  little 
reserve  force  that  it  is  the  first  of  our  faculties  to  break  down,  not  only  in 
sleep,  but  in  grief,  in  intoxication,  in  fever,  in  case  of  a  stunning  blow,  etc. 
Other  faculties  continue  active  when  this  has  completely  succumbed.  The 
torpor  of  volition  during  sleep  is  an  important  element  in  explaining  the 
phenomena  of  dreaming. 

1  In  reverie  the  imagination  suffers  but  little  restraint.  Images  assemble, 
form,  and  dissolve,  not  so  much  at  will  as  at  pleasure.  It  is  the  dolce  far 
niente,  the  luxury  of  idleness.  "La  reverie  est  le  dimanche  de  la  pensfie." 
—  Amiel. 

The  generic  character  and  difference  of  delirium  and  monomania  come  to 
light  on  comparing  Otway's  line,  — 

"  Lutes,  laurels,  seas  of  milk,  and  ships  of  amber," 
with  Lear's  pathetic  words,  — 

"  What!  have  his  daughters  brought  him  to  this  pass?  " 

2  "  What  is  the  manner  of  the  occuiJation  of  the  brain  with  a  resuscitated 
feeling  of  resistance,  a  smell,  a  sound  ?  There  is  only  one  answer  that  seems 
admissible:  The  renewed  feeling  occupies  the  very  same  parts,  and  in  the 
same  manner,  as  the  original  feeling,  and  no  otluT  parts,  nor  in  any  other 
assignable  manner."  —  15ai.\,  iienses  and  JntcUect,  p.  ;3;J8.     See  §  17,  note  2. 


IMAGINATION.  205 

It  is  certainlj''  true  that  imaged  activity  always  tends  strongly 
to  go  out  into  real  activity.  When  we  image  a  leap,  we  are 
ready  and  disposed  to  spring ;  when  we  con  over  a  proposed 
speech  we  are  apt  to  break  out  with  it  aloud ;  a  fancied  blow 
causes  one  to  start  or  dodge ;  and  on  this  principle  alone  can 
we  account  for  many  varieties  of  involuntary  gesticulation 
and  facial  expression,  which  it  requires  severe  discipline  to 
repress.!  In  all  such  cases  the  cause  is  mental,  and  brain 
change  the  effect. 

The  reverse  is  true  in  perception.  Here  the  brain  is 
active  and  the  mind  recipient.  Probably  this  is  the  case 
also  in  involuntary  memory  and  imagination ;  brain  changes 
are  the  cause,  mental  images  the  effect.  Certain  molecular 
movements  take  place  in  an  inner  organ  of  sense  confusedly 
along  lines  of  preference  established  by  habit,  and  these 
determine  or  cause  a  succession  of  corresponding  mental 
images  in  more  or  less  confusion  and  disorder.  Hence  a 
man  dreams  in  character.  Physical  appetites  also,  as  hunger 
and  thirst,  will  direct  and  color  a  dream.  Hence  likewise 
the  subjective  effects  of  brain  fever,  and  the  extravagant 
visions  of  the  opium  eater.^  All  these  are  cases  of  neural 
disturbances  determining  mental  images.  Hence  it  appears 
that  involuntary  or   spontaneous    memory  and  imagination 

1  Miiller  cites  the  following  instances:  "The  mere  idea  of  a  nauseous 
taste  can  excite  the  sensation  even  to  the  production  of  vomiting.  The  qual- 
ity of  the  sensation  is  the  property  of  the  sensitive  nerve,  which  is  here 
excited  without  any  external  agent.  The  mere  sight  of  a  person  about  to 
pass  a  sharp  instrument  over  glass  or  porcelain  is  sufficient,  as  Darwin 
remarks,  to  excite  the  well-known  sensation  in  the  teeth.  The  mere  think- 
ing of  objects  capable,  when  present,  of  exciting  shuddering,  is  sufficient  to 
produce  that  sensation  of  the  surface  in  persons  of  irritable  habit."  —  Physi- 
ology,  p.  945. 

2  The  doctrine  is  not  new.    It  occurs  in  the  following :  — 

"Lovers  and  madmen  have  such  seething  braiuB, 
Such  shaping  fantasies,  that  apprehend 
More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends." 

—  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,,  A.  5,  so.  1. 

Observe  also  the  accurate  and  happy  use  of  the  terms  apprehend  and  com- 
prehend. 


206  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

differ  from  perception  in  degree  rather  than  in  kind,  it  being^ 
no  essential  difference  whether  the  movement  of  the  sensory 
be  determined  by  a  physical  habit,  by  the  stimulus  of  fever 
or  of  opium,  or  by  a  normal  influence  passing  from  the  outer 
organ  along  the  nerve  of  sense  to  the  inner  sensory. 

Brain  excitement  in  the  cases  of  spontaneous  memory  and 
imagination  is  ordinarily  of  lower  degree  than  in  case  of  per- 
ception. Accordingly  images  are  normally  much  less  vivid 
than  percepts.^  It  is  by  this  different  degree  of  vividness 
that  we  usually  distinguish  an  image  from  an  object  proper ; 
that  is,  from  a  sensorial  excitement  due  to  an  extra-organic 
cause.2  But  when  memory  or  imagination  are  extraordina- 
rily aroused  by  a  brain  excitement  correspondingly  great, 
images  may  be  as  vivid  as  percepts,  and  then  can  be  dis- 
tinguished from  them  only  by  applying  several  senses  as 
tests.      The    madman   and   the   ghost-seer  are   conscious  of 

1  Says  Spencer:  'Terceptions  are  vivid  states  of  consciousness  ;  memories 
are  faint  states  of  consciousness.' ' 

2  Upon  this  ground  we  regard  mental  images  iu  dreams,  without  doubt  or 
question,  as  external  realities.  Descartes  asks,  "  How  do  we  know  that  the 
thoughts  which  occur  in  dreaming  are  false,  rather  than  those  otlier  which  we 
experience  when  awake,  since  the  former  are  often  not  less  vivid  and  distinct 
than  the  latter  ?  Attentively  considering  these  cases,  I  perceive  so  clearly 
tliat  there  exist  no  certain  marks  by  which  the  state  of  waking  can  ever  be 
distinguished  from  sleep,  that  I  almost  persuade  myself  that  I  am  now 
dreaming."  —  0«  Method,  pt.  i.  See  also  Meditation  1st,  and  Principles, 
pt.  i,  §  4. 

Is  it  not  conceivable,  then,  that  hereafter  we  may  awaken  from  life  into 
some  higher  state  of  intelligence,  and  discover  that  what  in  life  we  took  to  be 
external  realities  were  merely  mental  images  ?     Is  it  not  true  that,  — 

"  We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  on;  ami  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep."—  Tempest,  A.  4,  sc.  1. 

Had  we  no  other  means  than  degree  of  vividness  by  which  to  distingui.sh 
the  ideal  from  the  real,  we  might  be  led  by  the  idealist  to  doubt  reality. 
When  asleep  and  dreaming,  we  have  no  other  means  ;  but  when  awake  there 
do  exist  very  certain  marks,  overlooked  by  Descartes,  which  leave  no  doubt. 
The  aroused  and  masterful  volition  applies  the  tests  of  various  senses,  and  so 
determines  the  (juestion.  See  §  Kil,  last  paragraph  ;  but  more  especially  see 
the  chapter  on  External  Reality,  §  100  sq. 


IMAGINATION.  207 

objects  which  are  truly  external  to  self,  though  enorganic,  and 
they  mistake   only  in  referring  them  to  extra-organic  causes.^ 

§  197.  Returning  to  the  varieties  of  imagination,  we  are 
now  to  consider  what  is  commonly  called  the  voluntary 
imagination.  It  is  distinguished  from  phantasy  in  being 
governed  by  a  purpose.  This  purpose  is  conditioned  on  and 
impelled  by  a  desire,  it  may  be  a  desire  to  feel,  or  a  desire  to 
know,  or  a  desire  to  do,  and  imagination  is  made  to  represent 
accordingly.  Hereon,  then,  we  ground  a  subdivision  of  its 
modes.  Impelled  by  intelligent  desire  and  controlled  by 
will,  imagination  may  be  exercised  with  special  reference  to 
sentiment,  giving  the  artistic  imagination ;  or  with  reference 
to  knowledge,  giving  the  reflective  imagination  ;  or  with  ref- 
erence to  performance,  giving  the  practical  imagination.  The 
order  here  adopted  is  continuously  progressive  toward  the  real. 

§  198.  The  artistic  imagination,  or  that  characterizing  the 
fine  arts,  has  two  sub-varieties,  or  rather  degrees,  fancy  and 

1  When  one's  terrors  conjure  up  a  ghost,  it  is  truly  a  visible  thing,  external 
to  the  seer,  existing  in  his  visual  organ. 

"  This  is  the  vei'v  coinage  of  your  brain; 
This  bodiless  creation  ecstasy 
Is  very  cunning  in.'.'  —  Queen  to  Hamlet,  A.  3,  sc.  4. 

Huxley,  remarking  the  famous  case  of  Mrs.  A.,  detailed  by  Brewster  in 
his  Natural  Magic,  says,  "  Mrs.  A.  undoubtedly  sav?  what  she  said  she  saw." 
—  Physiology,  p.  269.  That  is,  as  he  explains,  her  retina  was  affected  from 
within  so  as  to  present  the  image  of  an  object  which  did  not  otherwise  exist. 
Says  Gurney :  "In  the  most  complete  or  '  external '  form  of  hallucinations,  a 
refluent  current  will  pass  downwards  to  the  external  organ,  and  the  percep- 
tion will  be  referred  to  the  eye  or  ear,  just  as  though  its  object  were  really 
acting  on  those  organs  from  outside."  —  In  Mind,  No.  38,  p.  191.  Proofs 
are  :  1st.  Pressure  on  one  side  of  one  eyeball,  or  squinting,  doubles  the 
phantom.  2d.  A  hemiopic  case,  where  only  the  upper  half  of  a  phantom 
was  seen,  the  upper  half  of  the  retina  being  anopic.  3d.  The  surviving  of 
dream-images  into  waking  moments.  This  last  was  remarked  by  Spinoza, 
and  observed  by  MiiWer.  ~  Physiology ,  p.  945.  Wundt  suggests  that,  in  case 
the  phantom  does  not  move  with  the  eye,  this  centrifugal  retinal  stimulation 
is  disproved.  —  Phys.  Psych.,  vol.  ii,  p.  356, 


208  MEDIATE  KXOWLELXJE. 

the  poetic  imagination.  They  have  this  in  common,  and  are 
thereby  distinguished  from  other  varieties  of  imagination, 
that  they  have  direct  reference  to  sentiment,  but  more  espe- 
cially to  the  aesthetic  feeling,  aiming  to  excite  the  pleasing 
sense  of  beauty,  and  being  governed  by  the  aesthetic  judg- 
ment conformably  to  the  laws  of  taste.  Their  difference  is 
one  of  degree.^ 

Fancy  excites  only  the  more  delicate  sentiments,  and  these 
delicately;  poetic  imagination  aspires  to  awaken  emotion  and 
often  soars  to  the  sublime.  The  latter  adheres  more  closely 
to  the  truth  of  nature,  and  is  more  severely  logical ;  the 
former  disregards  the  truth  of  nature,  creating  a  new  idea, 
a  fairyland  of  its  own,  and  submits  to  logic  only  so  far 
as  not  to  fall  into  the  disorder  and  misrepresentations  of 
phantasy.  Thus  fancy  is  an  advance  beyond  phantasy  in 
the  movement  from  the  impossible  and  absurd,  toward  the 
actual  and  real.^ 

1  The  Greeks  used  <pavTaaia  to  designate  both,  but  modern  usage  distin- 
guishes them.  Wordsworth,  in  the  preface  to  his  Lyrical  Ballads,  marks 
clearly  the  difference.  See  also  Trench,  Study  of  Words,  ad  verb.  Previously 
Addison  confused  them.  —  Sjwct.  No.  40.  Afterward  Coleridge  went  to  the 
opposite  extreme,  affirming  that  "fancy  and  imagination  are  two  distinct 
and  widely  different  faculties."  —  Biog.  Lit.,  ch.  4. 

2  Shakspeare  strikingly  marks  this  triple  gi-adation  in  the  famous  and 
familiar  speech  of  Theseus  in  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  A.  5,  so.  1. 

Fancy  finds  play  not  only  in  literature,  but  in  all  the  fine  arts.  It  conde- 
scends to  a  lower  plane,  and  appears  in  conversation,  in  dress,  and  in  the 
decorative  arts.  It  revels  in  associations  that  are  remote,  arbitrary,  and 
capricious,  and  so  indulges  in  whimsical  conceits  and  prettiuess.  Cowley's 
genius  was  fanciful,  Milton's  imaginative,  Shakspeare  was  lord  of  both 
realms.  The  Midsummer  Xiglit's  Dream  is  a  perfect  example  of  the  fanci- 
ful, wlierein  imagination  moves  on  a  wing  as  light  as  Ariel's.  Fancy  is 
always  more  nimble  than  strong,  more  gentle  than  bold,  more  witty  than  wise. 
The  goddess  of  wisdom  sprang  from  the  head  of  Jupiter.  A  little  song  in 
Shakspeare  asks :  — 

"Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  tl)o  heart,  or  in  the  head  ? 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ? 
Reply,  reply." 

Goethe  answers:  "Fancy  is  the  ever-movhig,  ever-new,  Jove's  loveliest 
daughter,  child  of  his  heart." 


IMA  GIN  A  TION.  209 

§  199.  The  higher  degree  of  the  artistic  imagination  is 
called  the  poetic  imagination.  The  word  poetic  must  be 
here  understood  as  excluding  the  merely  fanciful,  and  as 
including  much  of  prose  fiction  and  of  mimetic  fine  art.^  Gov- 
erned by  laws  of  taste  more  exacting,  more  nearly  connected 
with  reason,  the  poetic  imagination  is  closely  observant  of 
nature,  heedful  of  truth,  and  submissive  to  logical  sequence.^ 
It  is  popularly  supposed  to  disregard  or  even  defy  logic ; 
whereas  it  is  strictly  logical.  Throughout  every  poem  must 
lun  a  continuous  thread  of  logical  sequence,  however  con- 
cealed, to  give  it  cohesion  and  unity,  and  in  the  truly  great 
poems  there  is  a  reason  assignable,  not  only  for  every  word, 
but  for  the  place  of  every  word,  just  as  there  is  likewise  one 
for  every  curve  in  a  statue,  for  every  hue  in  a  painting,  and 
for  every  passing  note  in  a  sonata. 

§  200.  Next  in  the  approach  toward  the  real,  is  the  reflec- 
tive imagination.  It  is  so  called  because  it  especially  relates 
to  thought  in  the  search  for  knowledge.     Herein  imagination 

1  Poetry  aud  music  coalesce  in  song,  and  it  is  admissible  to  say  that  the 
symphonies  of  Beethoven  are  tone  poems,  that  the  Cupid  and  Psyche  of 
Canova  is  a  marble  lyric,  and  that  the  Vatican  frescoes  of  Raphael  are  the 
«pic  of  the  Church. 

2  Both  fancy  and  the  poetic  imagination  are  creative.  "Imagination,  in 
the  sense  of  the  poet,"  says  Wordsworth,  "has  no  reference  to  images  that 
iire  merely  a  faithful  copy,  existing  in  the  mind,  of  absent  external  objects, 
but  is  a  word  of  higher  import,  denoting  operations  of  the  mind  upon  these 
objects,  and  processes  of  creation  or  composition  governed  by  fixed  laws."  — 
Preface  to  Lyrical  Ballads. 

The  German  calls  a  poet  a  thinker  (Dichter,  related  to  DenJcer),  and  poet- 
ical power  the  power  of  thought  (Dic)itungskraft).  Some  one  has  said  that 
high  art  is  deep  metaphysics.  Whether  it  be  in  poetry  or  music,  in  painting 
or  sculpture,  the  triumph  of  the  artist  lies,  not  in  presenting  us  with  a  tran- 
script of  things  that  may  be  seen  or  heard  or  handled  in  the  world  around  us, 
but  in  carrying  us  across  the  gulf  which  separates  the  real  from  the  ideal, 
and  placing  us  in  the  presence  of  the  truly  beautiful,  and  surrounding  us 
with  an  atmosphere  more  pure  than  that  which  the  sun  enlightens.  "For, 
with  the  exception  of  the  self-existent  Being,"  says  Rousseau,  "there  is 
nothing  beautiful  but  that  which  is  not.' ' 


210  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

submits  to  yet  closer  bonds.  Regardless  of  sentiment,  it 
seeks  neither  the  beautiful  nor  the  sublime,  but  harnessed  by 
logic,  and  driven  by  desire  to  know,  it  labors  after  truth, 
which  when  ascertained  it  strives  to  represent  with  clearness 
and  fulness. 

Reflective  imagination,  like  the  artistic,  has  two  degrees. 
The  first  let  us  call  the  philosophic  or  scientific  imagination. 
This  is  largely  occupied  in  representing  the  hypotheses  of 
thought  in  its  tentative  excursions.  It  images  conceivable 
possibilities  relative  to  the  question  in  hand,  which  thought 
scrutinizes  and  adopts  or  rejects  according  to  the  facts ;  as 
Huygens'  hypothesis  of  a  vibrating  luminiferous  ether  filling 
space  was  adopted  in  place  of  Newton's  emission  hypothesis. 
Moreover,  when  thought  reaches  its  conclusion,  imagination 
pictures  it  in  full,  filling  up  the  outlines,  supplying  accordant 
circumstances,  enlarging  perhaps  beyond  the  strict  limits  of 
ascertained  truth.i 

1  The  geometrician  figures  before  his  mind's  eye  an  original  construction 
to  which  his  theorem  applies,  and  then  varies  its  proportions  from  limit  ta 
limit,  and  combines  it  with  others,  thus  testing  its  consistency  and  its  appli- 
cations. D'Alembert  says  that,  of  all  the  great  men  of  antiquity,  Archimedes 
is,  in  respect  of  imagination,  best  entitled  to  a  place  beside  Homer.  The 
historian  reasons  on  the  circumstances  of  an  event,  and  depicts  the  results  in 
a  detailed  description.  Macaulay's  fine  historic  imagination  renders  his  style 
autoptic.  The  astronomer  discovers  a  new  law,  and  in  applying  it,  perfects 
by  imagination  his  knowledge  of  the  mechanism  of  the  heavens.  The  human 
body,  by  the  power  of  imagination,  becomes  transparent  to  the  eye  of  the 
anatomist ;  the  frame  of  the  earth,  to  the  eye  of  the  geologist. 

Unless  held  under  severe  clieck,  the  philosophic  is  very  liable  to  return 
into  the  poetic  imagination.  The  most  illustrious  example  is  Plato,  whom 
Panoetius  calls  the  Homer  of  philosophy.  Aristotle  pronounces  his  system 
of  ideas  a  collection  of  poetical  metaphors.  "Abandoning  the  world  of 
reasoning,  because  of  the  narrow  limits  it  sets  to  the  understanding,  he  ven- 
tured," says  Kant,  "upon  the  wings  of  ideas  beyond  it,  into  the  void  space 
of  pure  intellect."  — C.  P.  /?.,  Int.  §  3.  "Nothing  is  more  dangerous  to 
reason,"  says  Hume,  "than  flights  of  imagination,  and  nothing  has  been  the 
occasion  of  more  mistakes  among  philosopliers.  Men  of  bright  fancies  may, 
in  this  respect,  be  compared  to  those  angels  whom  the  Scriptures  represent 
as  covering  their  eyes  with  their  wings."  —  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  bk.  i, 
pt.  iv,  §  7. 


IMA  GIN  A  TION.  211 

§  201.  The  second  degree  of  the  reflective  imagmation 
corresponds  pretty  closely  with  what  Aristotle  calls  "the 
deliberative  imagination."  It  is  still  more  confined  than  the 
first,  representing  in  a  concrete  image  merely  and  strictly 
the  attributes  that  constitute  a  thought,  and  thus  operating 
to  embody  the  thought  while  testing  its  logical  possibility. 
Its  importance  is  inestimable.  Its  special  consideration  is 
postponed  to  the  next  topic,  Thought,  with  which  it  is  so 
intimately  related  (§  214). 

§  202.  Still  nearer  to  the  reality  stands  the  practical  imag- 
ination. The  bounds  are  here  greatly  narrowed.  Phantasy 
is  checked  only  by  the  bare  necessities  of  intellect ;  fancy  is 
more  orderly ;  the  higher  poetic  imagination  still  more  closely 
conforms  to  nature  ;  philosophic  imagination  represents  what 
is  moreover  regarded  as  true  ;  but  practical  imagination  is 
confined  to  what  may  also  become  actual  fact.  These  wide 
extremes,  the  possible  idea,  and  the  possible  fact  are  the 
bounds  of  imagination. 

In  the  practical  imagination,  also,  we  distinguish  two  varie- 
ties. The  first  forms  ideas  of  actions  ;  the  second,  ideal 
standards  of  actions.     Of  these  in  their  order. 

The  first  variety  bears  a  special  relation  to  volition.  It  is 
that  mode  of  voluntary  imagination  which  has  for  its  object 
voluntary  activity  tending  directly  to  realization.  Every 
outward  activity  requires  that  we  should  previously  construct 
its  image.  I  cannot  pick  up  a  pin,  or  stick  one  in  my  dress, 
or  take  a  seat  in  a  chair,  or  reach  for  a  book,  without  a  prior 
image  of  myself  as  doing  these  acts.  So  in  all  things  small 
and  great,  from  the  plucking  of  an  apple,  to  an  Alexandrine 
conquest.  This  variety  of  the  practical  imagination  is  im- 
plied in  all  provision ;  it  is  prerequisite  to  every  desired  end, 
to  every  step  of  prudence,  to  every  act  of  duty.^ 

1  I  cannot  pen  a  syllable  without  first  imagining  that  syllable,  and  myself 
as  writing  it ;  then  my  pen  traces  on  the  paper  the  form  which  imagination 
has  already  imprinted  there.     The  mechanic  who  invents  a  machine  must 


212  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

A  sharp  limit  is  set  to  this  exercise  of  imagination  by  a 
certain  judgment  and  belief.  Any  one  may  easily  imagine 
himself  leaping  over  a  house,  but  knowing  that  he  cannot, 
believing  it  impracticable,  this  is  merely  a  bizarre  fancy,  and 
not  the  practical  imagination.  To  be  the  latter,  the  action 
imagined  must  be  regarded  as  possible.  I  cannot  even  at- 
tempt what  I  judge  and  believe  to  be  impracticable.  An 
insane  man  might  try  to  leap  over  a  house,  but  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  a  sane  man  to  try.  No  matter  how  intense  may  be 
my  wish  that  it  Vv^ere  possible  for  me  to  do  a  thing,  I  must 
not  only  imagine  the  doing  it,  but  also  must  believe,  rightly 
or  not,  at  least  that  perhaps  I  can  do  it,  before  I  can  make 
the  effort.  An  actual  effort,  unsustained  by  this  judgment 
and  belief,  is  a  psychological  impossibility .^ 

construct  it  in  imagination  before  he  can  realize  it  in  wood  and  iron.  If  a 
mountain  is  to  be  tunnelled,  the  engineer  must  devise  the  means  ;  if  a  river  is 
to  be  bridged,  he  has  already  marked  the  progress  of  the  work  while  yet  the 
timber  is  in  the  forest  and  the  metal  in  the  mine.  The  merchant  in  his 
counting-room  plans  distant  voyages ;  the  general  in  his  solitarj^  winter 
quarters  maps  out  the  next  summer's  campaign.  The  artist  who  paints  a 
fresco,  or  carves  a  statue,  or  builds  a  temple,  has  devised  mentally  before  he 
produces  manually ;  his  representative  ideas  exist  before  they  are  embodied 
in  representative  things. 

"  Such  tricks  bath  strong  imagination, 
That  if  it  would  but  apprehend  some  joy, 
It  comprehends  some  bringer  of  that  joy." 

—  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  A.  5,  bc.  1. 

The  work  presupposes,  first,  the  artistic  imagination  to  compose,  then  the 
practical  imagination  to.  devise,  and  then  the  manual  skill  to  execute.  If 
any  one  of  the  three  is  defective,  the  work  is  marred.  In  general,  the  ability 
to  frame  practical  images  of  what  one  would  do,  to  plan  one's  conduct  and 
action,  is  the  mark  of  an  efficient  character ;  to  do  so  promptly  on  euu-rgency 
is  presence  of  mind.  Executive  talent  is  little  else  than  another  name  for 
practical  imagination.  He  who  has  none,  or  does  not  exercise  what  he  has, 
blunders  along  through  life,  and  is  the  victim  of  accidents.  He  leaves  his 
teaspoon  standing  .in  his  cup,  sets  down  a  coal-bucket  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  packs  his  trunk  on  the  assumption  that  it  is  to  continue  right  side  up 
throughout  his  journey,  is  too  late  for  the  train,  demands  his  dinner  in  less 
than  five  niiimtes,  and  neglects  to  write  proper  names,  especially  his  own, 
with  absolute  plainness. 

1  The  belief  that  I  can  do  a  thing  may  be  a  delusion,  but  while  the  dclu- 


IMAGINATION.  213 

§  203.  The  second  variety  of  the  practical  imagination  is 
the  forming  of  ideals.  We  have  spoken  of  the  ideal  sphere 
of  cognition  in  opposition  to  the  real,  and  of  all  objects  of 
imagination  in  general  as  ideal  objects  (§  190).  But  the  noun 
ideal  has  acquired  a  specific  sense.  It  designates  an  idea 
proposed  by  the  mind  for  imitation  or  attainment,  a  paradigm 
or  standard  or  model  of  perfection  in  things  or  actions  which 
invites  realization.  We  frame  an  ideal  of  whatever  is  capa- 
ble of  various  degrees  of  excellence  by  collecting'  in  one  the 
best  elements  of  many,  thus  representing  the  highest  extreme 
of  an  idealized  perfection.  This  then  affords  a  standard 
towards  which  we  strive,  and  by  which  we  measure  the  real- 
ized fact. 

In  its  psychological  character  an  ideal  seems  to  hover 
between  an  idea  and  a  concept.  That  it  is  a  representation 
of  something  which  we  endeavor  to  make  real,  marks  it  as  a 
product  of  practical  imagination.     That  it  is  constituted  of 

sion  lasts  I  can  try.  But  if  in  fact  the  thing  is  easy,  yet  my  delusion  now  is 
that  I  can't  do  it,  then  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  try.  The  child  at  school 
who  says,  "  I  can't,"  and  believes  it,  says  true,  no  matter  how  easy  the  task 
may  be  ;  and  it  is  sheer  cruelty  to  enforce  a  simulated  effort.  The  ineffi- 
ciency of  a  hopeless  disposition  is  proverbial.  We  exhort  youth  to  attempt 
great  things.  The  words  are  idle,  unless  he  is  convinced  that  to  him  great 
things  are  possible.  "  Possunt  posse  quia  videnter."  —  Virgil.  The  under- 
estimate of  one's  powers  by  just  so  much  retrenches  efficiency  ;  whereas  some 
overestimate,  which  is  likely  to  be  corrected  by  failure,  will  bring  out  their 
full  strength. 

Another  psychological  fact  should  be  here  noted.  All  the  ideal  within  the 
described  limit  strives  to  cross  the  opposite  limit,  and  pass  into  the  real.  It 
lies  deep  in  human  nature  that  whatever  is  vividly  conceived,  it  strongly 
tends  to  produce.  Imagination  reacts  to  strengthen  desire,  which  urges 
realization,  and  we  are  impelled  to  accomplish  in  fact  what  we  image  in 
vision.  Looking  down  a  precipice  suggests  so  forcibly  the  idea  of  falling, 
that  an  effort  of  self-control  is  requisite  to  keep  one's  self  from  acting  it  out. 
Cherishing  merely  the  thought  of  a  crime  will  bring  forth  the  crime.  Brood- 
ing on  the  idea  hatches  the  thing.  If  virtue  be  teachable,  it  is  here.  Inflame 
imagination  with  its  charms,  and  it  will  become  a  hfe.  Fill  the  mind  with 
great  thoughts,  and  they  will  become  great  deeds.  The  subjective  evolves 
the  objective.  The  human  mind  represents  a  Utopia,  and  struggles  to  realize 
it.     The  Divine  Mind  conceived  a  kosmos  ;  the  universe  appeared. 


214  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

qualities  abstracted  from  various  sources,  which  collected  in 
one  have  an  application  more  or  less  general,  assimilates  it 
to  a  product  of  thought.  Hence  we  may  properly  be  said 
to  conceive  an  ideal ;  whereas  we  do  not  properly  conceive, 
but  frame  or  form  an  imaefe  or  idea. 

An  artist  selects  and  assembles  in  one  whole  the  beauties 
and  perfections  which  are  found  in  different  individuals, 
excluding  everything  defective  or  unseemly,  so  as  to  form  a 
type  or  model  of  the  species.  His  artistic  imagination  pro- 
poses some  particular  composition,  but  his  practical  imagina- 
tion has  already  conceived  something  higher,  towards  which 
he  strives,  to  which  he  would  make  his  production  conform. 
This  is  the  hemi  ideal.,  in  a  sense  critical  and  aesthetic,  a  tj'pe 
of  the  beautiful  in  hypothetical  perfection.^ 

Perhaps  every  man  forms  ideals  of  character  and  conduct. 
We  set  before  us  standards  of  personal  attainment,  physical, 

1  In  illustration  of  the  Platonic  meaning  of  TrapdSeiy/jia,  or  an  ideal,  Cicero 
tells  us  that  Zeuxis  had  five  of  the  most  beautiful  women  of  Crotona  as 
models,  from  whom  to  make  up  his  picture  of  a  perfect  beauty.  —  Z)e  Inven- 
tione,  ii,  1.  Thus  he  hoped  to  realize  his  ideal.  Elsewhere  Cicero  observes 
that  there  is  nothing  so  fair  but  that  a  fairer  may  be  conceived.  We  can,  for 
example,  conceive  of  statues  more  perfect  than  those  of  riiidias.  "  Nor  did 
this  artist,  when  he  made  his  statue  of  Jupiter  or  of  Minerva,  contemplate 
any  one  individual  from  whom  to  take  a  likeness  ;  but  in  the  depth  of  his 
soul  resided  a  perfect  type  of  beauty,  on  which  he  gazed,  and  which  guided 
his  hand  and  skill  —  ad  iUius  siinnUudiiiem  artem  et  manum  dirigebat.''^  — 
De  Oratore,  ii,  9.  "Thus  his  ideal  is  the  artist's  object  of  passionate  con- 
templation. Assiduously  and  silently  meditated,  unceasingly  purified  by 
reflection  and  vivified  by  sentiment,  it  warms  genius  and  inspires  it  with  an 
irresistible  need  of  seeing  it  realized  and  living."  —  Colsin,  DuVrai,  du  Bcmi, 
et  du  Bien,  8me  le§on. 

It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the  Platonic  theory  of  ideas  originated  in 
the  contemplation  of  these  natural  products,  the  ideals  of  the  human  mind. 
For  an  account  of  their  historical  genesis,  see  Aristotle,  3Ieta.,  i,  0,  9.  To 
whatever  niay  receive  a  common  name,  there  is  posited  an  answering  idea  ; 
or,  as  Aristotle  says  :  "  Plato  places  an  idea  to  every  class  of  being."  —  Meta., 
xii,  3.  Notwithstanding  this  generality,  the  Platonic  idea  is  an  individual, 
eiSos,  formed  of  the  essence  of  individual  things.  iEsthetically  and  ethically 
it  is  perfect,  and  to  it  the  corresponding  realities,  erSwXa,  remain  perpetually 
inferior.    It  is  the  archetype  or  pattern,  TrapdSeiytxa,  to  which  things  conform, 


IMA  GIN  A  TION.  215 

intellectual,  or  moral.  The  early  visions  of  hope  and  the 
romance  of  reverie  build  ideals  of  excellence  towards  which 
we  longingly  struggle,  to  which  we  aspire  to  conform. 
What  a  man  most  admires  in  character  is  a  sure  index,  if 
not  of  what  he  is,  at  least  of  what  he  would  become.  If  his 
ideal  be  pure  and  true,  then  it  is  his  guardian  angel,  ever 
leading  him  to  something  higher  and  better. 

The  ideal  of  the  artist  once  conceived,  all  his  works, 
though  increasingly  beautiful,  are  mere  idols  ;  that  is,  rude 
images  of  a  superior  beauty  which  they  fail  to  realize.  So 
also,  tell  me  of  a  noble  action,  and  I  will  instantly  imagine 
one  still  more  noble.  The  ideal  is  ever  higher  than  achieve- 
ment. It  flies  before  the  real  like  a  shadow,  never  to  be 
overtaken ;  it  is  the  unattained  and  unattainable  paradise 
of  our  despair.  "  Continually  receding  as  we  approach,  it 
expands  at  last  to  the  infinite,  to  God ;  for  the  true,  the 
absolute  and  the  complete  is  God  himself.  L'ideal,  viola 
I'echelle  mysterieuse  qui  fait  monter  Tame  du  fini  a  I'infini !  " 

by  which  they  are  realized,  toward  which  they  ascend.  The  individual  things 
have  necessarily  a  participation,  fi^de^is,  in,  or  are  an  imitation,  fiifi-rjcns, 
ofioiixjffLs,  of  the  idea.  The  idea,  though  existing  independently,  aiirb  KdO' 
avTo,  has  also  a  certain  community,  KOLvujvLa,  with  things.  It  is  in  some  sense 
present,  irapova-ia,  in  them,  but  yet  complete  in  itself.  See  JSophistes,  256  a  ; 
and  Parmenides,  132  b. 


216  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


THOUGHT. 


§  204.  Thought  is  representation  by  means  of  a  notion. 
Thus  by  thinking  I  form  a  general  notion  to  which  I  give  the 
name  lily,  and  this  notion  is  representative  of  many  individ- 
ual lilies.  In  another  aspect  to  think  is  to  determine  a 
logical  subject.  Thus  when  I  see  a  lily,  I  consider  that  its 
needs  are  all  supplied,  that  it  toils  not,  neither  does  it  spin, 
that  it  is  gloriously  arrayed,  etc.  Here  the  subject,  lil}-,  is 
in  several  respects  determined.  By  these  considerations  I 
know  it  more  intimately,  by  these  it  is  distinguished  from  a 
great  many  other  things.  All  that  can  be  said  of  the  sub- 
ject is  but  a  continuation  of  this  process ;  and  each  affirma- 
tion or  denial  is  a  thought.^ 

1  Even  in  scientific  treatises  the  words  thought,  to  thinli,  etc.,  are  com- 
monly used  very  widely,  not  to  say  loosely.  In  Descartes,  for  example,  cogi- 
tatio  or  pensee  denotes  "all  that  in  us  of  which  we  are  immediately  con- 
scious. Thus  all  the  operations  of  the  will,  of  the  imagination,  and  senses, 
are  thoughts." — Kesp.  ad  Sec.  Obj.,  p.  85,  ed.  of  16G3.  Cf.  Hamilton  in 
Reid,  p.  222,  note.  So  Wundt.  With  him  thought,  Gedanke,  is  a  state  of 
consciousness  in  general ;  but  he  regards  every  such  state  as  reducible  to  a 
single  fact,  i.e.  to  reasoning  or  inference,  Schliessen.  This  is  his  fundamen- 
tal position.  See  his  Physiologische  Psychologie,  p.  714.  Without  offering 
here  any  opinion  respecting  this  doctrine,  we  restrict  thought  by  definition, 
and  treat  it  as  a  distinct  faculty  or  activity. 

It  has  a  variety  of  synonyms  ;  e.g.  discursive  faculty  or  discursive  reason, 
as  opposed  to  pure  reason  (Plato,  Kant;  see  §  113,  note),  comparative  fac- 
ulty, faculty  of  relations,  elabnrative  faculty  (Hamilton),  faculty  of  compre- 
hension, faculty  of  understanding  (  VcrMand,  Kant),  for  one  understands  a 
thing  when  he  makes  it  stand  under  a  class. 

We  prefer  the  word  thought,  Anglo-Saxon  theaht,  N.  II.  Ger.  Bedacht,  Ge- 
danke, a  mental  putting  or  bringing  together  of  things,  from  deiileii,  to  think, 
related  to  dkhlen,  to  compose,   and  so  to  dkht,  compact,  and  dick,  thick. 


THOU  GUT.  217 

The  word  7iotio7i  occurs  in  the  foregomg  definition.  We 
use  it  generically  to  designate  products  of  thought,  and  these 
only,  and  therefore  as  ox:)posed  to  the  idea  or  image.  Notions 
are  either  marks  or  concepts.  ]\Iarks  are  the  various  quali- 
ties or  attributes  of  an  object  analyzed  by  thought.  A 
concept  is  the  result  of  the  act  of  conception,  or  the  act  of 
grasping  together  into  one  the  various  marks  which  charac- 
terize an  object.^ 

§  205.  It  is  obviously  a  primary  condition  of  thought  that 
there  should  be  an  object  or  objects  presented  or  represented 
by  the  subsidiary  faculties.  These  must  furnish  the  crude 
material  out  of  which  thought  elaborates  the  concept.  In 
this  exercise  three  elements  or  operations  or  movements  are 
logically  distinguishable,  —  abstraction,  generalization,  and 
conception. 

Abstraction  is  simply  withdrawing  the  mind  from  other 
objects  l)y  fixing  attention  on  one.  Thus,  if  I  consider  a 
personal  action,  and  observing  that  it  is  generous,  fix  my 
attention  on  that,  thereby  withdrawing  my  mind  from  all 
concomitant  attributes,  consciousness  is  abstracted  from  these 
by  concentrating  upon  the  one,  the  generosity.     Abstraction 

Thus  think  comes  from  the  same  original  root  as  thicl;  tlie  n  (not  found  in 
thowjM)  being  merely  casual.  In  thinking  we  thicken  by  uniting  many  in 
one. 

1  Both  psychology  and  logic  treat  of  thought ;  the  former  treats  of  it 
inter  alia;  the  latter  exclusively.  Yet  these  sciences  taken  strictly  do  not 
intersect ;  each  has  its  special  point  of  view.  Psychologj-  views  the  act  and 
product  of  thought  in  their  relation  to  mind.  It  inquires  a  posteriori  into 
the  phenomena  of  thought,  seeking  their  explanation  and  laws.  Logic  views 
the  product  of  thought  without  reference  to  the  producing  mind.  Starting 
with  axioms,  it  demonstrates  a  priori  the  laws  that  govern  the  process, 
and  whose  violation  nullifies  thought.  Psychology  is  the  natural  history 
of  thought.  Logic  is  the  theory  of  thought.  See  Mansel,  Prolegomena 
Logica,  ch.  9.  Herbart  says:  "Die  ganze  reine  Logic  hat  es  mit  Verhiilt- 
nissen  des  Gedachten  zu  thun  ;  aber  iiberall  nirgends  mit  der  Thatigkeit  des 
Denkens,  nirgends  mit  der  psychologischen  Moglichkeit  desselben."  —  Psy- 
chologie  als  Wissenschaft,  th.  ii,  §  119. 


218  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

then  is  the  act  whereby  consciousness  is  withdrawn  from 
other  qualities  of  an  object,  or  from  other  objects,  by  concen- 
trating upon  one. 

It  has  already  been  pointed  out  (§  87)  that  attention  and 
abstraction  are  psychological  correlatives,  the  one  the  positive, 
the  other  the  negative,  aspect  of  the  same  act.  In  the  psy- 
chological and  negative  view,  we  are  understood  to  abstract 
or  draw  away  the  mind  from  certain  features  of  objects  pre- 
sented, absfrahere  mentem  a  differentiis.  In  the  logical  and 
positive  view,  we  are  said  to  abstract  certain  portions  of  a 
total  cognition  from  the  remainder,  ahstrahere  differentias. 

Mental  dissection  differs  from  abstraction.  Abstraction 
relates  to  qualities,  dissection  to  quantities.  It  separates  a 
whole  into  its  quantitative  or  mathematical  parts,  as  head, 
trunk,  and  limbs.  It  seems  to  be  a  movement  of  imagination 
rather  than  of  thought.  Quantitative  parts,  however,  may  be 
and  often  are  viewed  as  qualities,  and  then  are  thoughts,  as 
vertebrate  and  invertebrate. 

§  206.  The  process  of  abstraction  is  analytical,  and  the 
result  is  the  separation  of  a  quality  or  attribute  of  a  thing  or 
of  an  event  from  those  with  which  it  is  really  or  in  fact  con- 
comitant. This  product,  which  truly  has  no  independent 
existence  whatever,  is  viewed  mentally  as  though  it  were  in 
itself  an  independent  thing.  Hence  a  simple  abstract  notion 
is  a  mark  considered  as  a  thing. 

The  name  of  a  quality  in  the  concrete  is  an  adjective  noun, 
and  is  always  grammatically  dependent ;  as,  Solomon  the 
wise.  The  name  of  a  quality  in  the  abstract  is  a  substantive 
noun,  and  may  be  the  subject  or  the  object  of  a  proposition  ;  as. 
Wisdom  is  the  principal  thing,  therefore  get  wisdom.  Such 
abstract  notions  are  primarily  thought  of  as  peculiar,  and  may 
or  may  not  be  generalized.  Particular  marks  or  qualities 
are  individua  sir/nata.,  belonging  to  this  one  thing  and  to  no 
other.  Tliey  may  be  taken  abstractly,  but  are  not  susceptible 
of  generalization. 


THOUGHT.  219 

§  207.  The  second  function  of  thought  is  generalization. 
Upon  abstracting  qualities  from  two  or  more  objects  we  may- 
be struck  by  the  similarity  of  the  qualities.  If  so,  we  simplify 
and  unify  the  cognitions  by  thinking  the  similar  qualities  to 
be  the  same.  For  example,  this  paper,  the  wall,  chalk,  and 
snow  are  each  of  them  white.  Similar  qualities  are  those  that 
stand  in  similar  relation  to  our  organs  and  faculties.  When 
the  similarity  is  complete,  the  effects  which  they  determine 
in  us  are  indistinguishable.  What  we  cannot  distinguish  are 
to  us  virtually  the  same,  that  is,  they  are  subjectively  to  us 
precisely  as  if  they  were  objectively  identical.  The  same, 
accordingly,  we  consider  them  to  be,  though  really  in  different 
objects.  This  act,  to  think  the  similar  the  same,  to  consider 
a  plurality  a  unit}^  is  the  essence  of  generalization  and  is  a 
fundamental  fiction  of  thought.  The  several  objects  whosa 
mark  has  been  generalized,  we  comprehend  under  a  common 
concrete  name  ;  e.g.  white  thing.  The  generality  of  this 
name  consists  solely  in  that  it  is  applicable  indifferently  to 
any  one  of  the  objects  it  comprehends.  Hence  generalization 
is  the  act  of  comprehending  in  one  notion  several  objects 
agreeing  in  some  quality  which  we  abstract  from  each  of 
them,  and  which  the  common  name  serves  to  indicate. 

§  208.  The  third  operation  of  thought  is  conception.  It 
may  occur  immediately  upon  abstraction ;  that  is,  without 
generalization.  When  a  number  of  marks  have  been  ab- 
stracted they  may  be  collected  by  thought  into  one  notion. 
This  is  the  act  of  conceiving  or  of  conception,  and  the  com- 
plex notion  thus  obtained  is  the  concept.  A  concept,  then, 
is  a  union  of  marks  in  one  notion;  or,  we  may  say,  a  concept 
is  a  bundle  of  marks.^ 

Every  object  presented  to  the  mind  has  an  indefinite  plu- 
rality of  marks.     Observation  can  make  many  known  to  us, 

1  To  conceive,  from  eon-caper e,  to  grasp  together ;  Ger.  hegreifen,  Begriff, 
allied  to  Eng.  grip,  grab,  grasp,  group.  "  A  collection  of  attributes,  united  by 
a  sign,  and  representing  a  possible  object  of  intuition."  —  Mansel. 


220  MEDIATE  EyOWLEDGE. 

but  our  knowledge,  though  constantly  increasing  in  fulness 
and  complexity,  can  never  become  complete.  Indeed,  the 
limited  powers  of  the  mind  cannot  take  in  at  once  all  those 
marks  Avhose  presence  is  known.  A  representation  becomes 
confused  when  we  attempt  to  grasp  or  comprehend  in  one 
notion  more  than  a  very  few  of  them.  Giving  up  the  attempt, 
we  form  a  concept  of  the  thing,  embracing  comparatively  few 
of  its  ascertained  marks,  making  selection  of  such  as  are  dis- 
tinctive and  essential.  This  is  a  singular  or  particular  con- 
cept. It  is  complex,  but  not  general.  To  it  we  may  apply 
Esser's  definition  :  A  concept  is  the  representation  of  a  thing 
through  its  distinctive  marks. ^ 

The  particular  concept  is  potentially  general,^  and  may 
become  actually  so  by  being  generalized.^ 

On  the  other  hand,  if  instead  of  particular  marks  I  have 
a  number  of  common  marks,  that  is,  marks  each  of  which  has 
already  been  generalized,  these  may  likewise  be  conceived 
together,  and  constitute  at  once  a  complex  general  notion, 
general  by  virtue  of  the  factitious  generality  of  each  one 
of  its  constituents.* 

1  In  this  way  one  forms  a  notion  of  historical  characters,  e.g.  of  Socrates, 
of  Csesar.  In  like  manner  every  man  forms  a  notion  of  himself,  often 
altogether  erroneous. 

2  Unless  it  involve  a  peculiar  mark,  as  Cfesar,  the  conqueror  of  Pompey. 
But  even  in  such  case  there  is  no  logical  objection  to  the  ancient  supposition 
that  the  whole  history  of  mankind  is  constantly  repeated  from  recurring 
epochs,  and  so  the  name  and  actions  of  Csesar  or  Achilles  will  be  found  in 
several  individuals  at  corresponding  periods  of  every  cycle.  See  Virgil, 
Eclogue,  iv,  34  sq. ,  and  Eccl.  1  : 9 ;  also  Mansel,  Proleg.  Logica,  p.  70,  and 
Mill,  Logic,  p.  250,  Am.  eds. 

3  For  example  :  If  I  consider  the  several  marks  of  the  apple  which  I  hold 
in  my  hand,  that  it  is  vegetable,  seed-bearing,  edible,  sugary,  spherical,  etc., 
and,  grasping  these  marks  in  one  notion,  thus  form  a  notion  of  this  apple, 
then  I  have  a  particular  concept  of  it.  Afterward  I  observe  that  a  similar 
bundle  of  marks  may  be  formed  from  other  apples  ;  also  from  an  orange,  a 
peach,  a  pear,  a  cherry,  etc.  Consequently,  I  consider  these  several  similar 
concepts  to  be  the  same,  i.e.  I  generalize,  and  call  this  complex  general  notion 
by  the  common  name  fruit. 

*  For  example :  I  take  the  following  marks,  each  of  which  I  have  separ- 


THOUGHT.  221 

The  general  notion,  perfected  as  to  its  content,  is  the  ulti- 
mate product  of  thought.  Hence  to  think  is  to  conceive,  is 
to  form  concepts,  and  a  concept  is  a  mental  combination,  or 
reduction  to  unity  of  the  similar  qualities  or  marks  of  objects 
of  thought.  It  is  true  that  it  involves  the  representation  of 
a  part  only  of  the  various  marks,  attributes,  or  characters  of 
which  the  individual  object  is  the  sum,  and  therefore  affords 
only  a  one-sided  and  inadequate  knowledge  of  things.  This 
inadequacy  is  a  consequence  of  the  limited  jDOwer  of  mind, 
which  must  accept  a  small  part  as  the  whole  of  a  thing,  and 
so  resort  to  a  fiction  in  order  to  comprehend,  even  in  an  im- 
perfect manner,  a  plurality  of  things.^ 

§  209.  A  process  subsidiary  to  thought  is  denomination  or 
naming.  The  uniformities  of  things  embraced  in  concepts 
would  quickly  escape  us,  if  we  did  not  fix  and  ratify  them  by 
sensuous  signs.^  "  A  sign  is  necessary  to  give  stability  to  our 
intellectual  progress,  to  establish  each  step  in  advance  as 
a  new  starting-point  for  our  advance  to  another  beyond. 
A  country  may  be  overrun  by  an  armed  host,  but  it  is  only 
conquered  by  the  establishment  of  fortresses.  Words  are  the 
fortresses  of  thought.  In  tunneling  through  a  sandbank  it 
is  impossible  to  succeed  unless  every  foot,  nay,  almost  every 
inch,  in  our  progress  be  secured  by  an  arch  of  masonry,  before 
we  attempt  the  excavation  of  another.  Now  language  is  to 
the  mind  precisely  what  the  arch  is  to  the  tunnel.  The  power 
of  thinking  and  the  power  of  excavating  are  not  dependent 

ately  thought  as  common  to  many  individual  things :  self-laminous,  spark- 
ling, celestial,  very  distant,  relatively  fixed,  etc.,  and  form  a  concept  of  star. 
This  complex  notion  is  applicable  to  a  host  of  things,  for  of  many  individuals 
each  has  all  of  these  marks.  The  notion  is,  therefore,  general  by  virtue  of 
the  generality  of  its  several  constituents. 

1  See  Hamilton,  Logic,  §  21. 

2  See  Mill,  Logic,  bk.  iv,  ch.  3.  A  uniformity  is  a  notion  of  resemblance  ; 
hence  general  names  or  terms,  the  signs  of  general  notions,  have  been  called 
termini  similitudinis.     Every  common  noun,  as  man,  tree,  fruit,  star,  is  a 

.sign  and  expression  of  a  concept. 


222  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

on  the  word  in  the  one  case,  nor  on  the  mason-work  in  the 
other ;  but  without  these  subsidiaries,  neither  process  could 
be  carried  on  beyond  its  rudimentary  commencement."  ^ 

§  210.  An  important  subsidiary  fact  is  that  every  concept 
comprehends,  on  the  one  hand,  a  number  of  attributes  or 
marks,  and,  on  the  other,  extends  to  a  number  of  objects  or 
things.  Thought  reduces  many  marks  to  unity,  comprising 
them  in  one  product,  and  many  things  to  unity,  including 
them  under  that  product,  the  concept.^  The  sum  of  the 
marks  connoted  is  the  intension  of  the  concept ;  the  sum  of 
the  things  denoted  is  its  extension.  Hence  the  concept  has 
a  kind  of  two-fold  quantity :  first,  the  number  of  marks  con- 
stituting its  connotation,  comprehension,  intension,  qua7ititas 
complexus,  or  depth,  jBdOo'^  ;  secondly,  the  number  of  things 
constituting  its  denotation,  extension,  quantitas  ambitus,  or 
breadth,  TrXaro?. 

It  is  evident  that  if  the  number  of  marks  in  a  concept  be 
diminished,  it  will  extend  to  a  greater  number  of  things ; 
and  if  the  marks  be  increased,  it  will  extend  to  fewer  things.^ 
When  we  think  marks  in,  we  think  things  out,  and  vice 
versa.  Hence  the  general  law.  The  greater  the  intension, 
the  smaller   the  extension;  and  the  smaller   the  intension, 

1  Hamilton,  Logic,  §  23.  See  also  Brown,  Fhil.  of  Hum.  Mind,  Lee.  47. 
"  Without  the  use  of  such  signs,"  says  Stewart,  "our  knowledge  must  have 
been  confined  to  individuals,  and  we  should  have  been  perfectlj^  incapable 
both  of  classification  and  of  general  reasoning."  But  the  thought  must 
be  before  the  word.  Advanced  thuikers  exploring  the  unknown  must  be 
independent. 

"  Words  are  but  the  under  agents  in  their  hands ; 
When  they  are  grasping  willi  their  greatest  strength, 
They  do  not  breathe  among  them." 

2  Thus  my  notion  man  comprehends  the  marks  rational,  sentient,  organ- 
ized, existing ;  and  contains  under  it  Aristotle,  Ca;sar,  Kant,  Napoleon,  and 
all  individual  men. 

8  Thus  the  concept  bird  connotes  the  marks  feathered,  winged,  biped, 
etc.,  and  denotes  and  is  predicable  of  many  individual  things  ;  whereas  the 
concept  swan  has  more  marks,  as,  web-footed,  etc.,  but  denotes  fewer 
individual  things. 


THOUGHT.  223 

the  greater  the  extension.     Or,  more  briefly ;  the  two  quan- 
tities of  the  concept  are  in  inverse  ratio. 

§  211.  We  are  now  prepared  to  observe  that  generalization 
is  classification.  By  thinking  a  mark  as  common  to  several 
individuals,  we  thereby  constitute  a  class  containing  them. 
Indeed,  every  common  noun  is  the  name  of  a  class  of  things, 
and  concepts  are  often  and  properly  called  class  notions. 

We  do  not,  however,  stop  at  a  first  generalization.  On 
comparing  two  or  more  given  class  notions  we  reject  their 
differences  to  form  still  another  more  general  concept.^  The 
operation  is  repeated  until  we  arrive  at  an  absolute  limit  in 
the  notion  of  being  or  thing,  which  connotes  only  one  mark, 
existence,  and  denotes  everything.  This  process  is  called 
par  excellence^  generalization,  but  since  it  is  the  forming  of 
genera  by  uniting  species,  it  is  also  called  generification. 

Reversing  the  process,  we  restore  the  differences  and  pro- 
ceed towards  the  individual,  which  is  the  limit,  connoting  an 
unlimited  plurality  of  marks,  and  denoting  only  one  thing.^ 
This  process  is  called  division  or  determination,  and  since 
we  are  herein  forming  species  by  subdividing  genera,  it  is 
also  called  specification. 

Thus  it  is  that  thought  forms  classes  of  things  and  of 
events.  The  systems  thereby  elaborated  are  wholly  subjec- 
tive, existing  only  in  the  mind  of  the  thinker,  and  are  deter- 
mined chiefly  by  the  purpose  he  has  in  view,  and  the  utility 
of  certain  relations  for  certain  ends.^     Thought  is  constantly 

1  Thus  by  abstracting  from  the  different  while  retaining  the  similar  marks 
in  the  several  general  notions,  bird,  beast,  fish,  reptile,  man,  and  thinking 
the  similar  the  same,  I  form  the  concept  animal.  This  genus  has  fewer 
marks  than  any  one  of  the  species,  but  it  contains  under  it  a  greater  number 
of  individual  things. 

2  Taking  the  concept  animal,  for  instance,  we  bring  in  the  mark  rational, 
which  throws  out  all  animals  except  man.  Then  suppose  we  bring  in  the 
mark  born  in  Virginia.  This  excludes  the  bulk  of  mankind,  and  we  have 
the  concept  Virginian.     Now  bring  in  pater  patrm,  and  we  have  Washington. 

3  In  civil  affairs  one  would  never  divide  mankind  iiito  horsemen  and  foot^ 
men,  but  from  a  military  point  of  view  this  distributiion  is  imix)rtant.   Cejtain 

((USI7BRSIT71 


224  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

and  exclusively  occupied  with  the  discovery  of  the  relations 
of  things  or  of  events,  and  with  the  arrangement  of  them  in 
classes.  Observed  uniformities  in  things  give  genera,  ob- 
served uniformities  in  events  are  formulated  as  laws.  The 
perfection  of  a  system  of  classes  is  the  perfection  of  knowl- 
edge. 

§  212.  Let  us  now  examine  the  process  and  product  of 
thought  under  a  different  aspect,  and  with  a  somewhat  varied 
terminology.  It  has  already  been  noted  that  every  act  of 
cognition  involves  the  shock  of  similarity  and  difference, 
that  this  is  essentially  comparison,  and  that  the  issue  of  com- 
parison is  a  judgment  (§§  59,  80).  Hence  every  movement  of 
the  cognitive  consciousness,  from  the  primitive  affirmation 
that  I  am,  to  the  most  fully  elaborated  cognition,  is  a  judg- 
ment. 

Judgments  are  of  two  kinds,  intuitions  and  inferences. 
The  intuitive  judgment  is  original,  the  other  is  derived.  In 
the  intuitive  judgment  the  matter  is  given  already  deter- 
mined. An  inference  determines  its  matter.  The  one  is  the 
psychological,  the  other  the  logical  judgment.  The  latter 
only  is  a  thought. 

The  striving  of  thought  has  two  directions.  It  strives 
either  to  attain  universal  judgments  respecting  things  and 
events,  or,  on  the  contrary,  to  bring  these  under  such  compre- 
hensive notions  as  may  have  been  already  attained.  Hence 
inferences,  or  logical  judgments,  or  simply  judgments,  are  of 
two  kinds,  inductions  and  deductions. 

An  induction  is  a  generalization  from  and  beyond  experi- 

natural  relations  give  order  to  tlie  classes  of  objects  for  purposes  of  natural 
•science ;  but  the  only  strictly  necessary  principle  of  distinction  between 
objects  is  the  numerical  diversity  of  individuals,  all  other  divisions  being,  in 
some  sense,  arbitrary  and  artificial.  The  naturalist  may  class  man  and  the 
ape  together  as  having  hands  ;  the  moralist  will  place  them  far  asunder  as 
rational  and  irrational,  responsible  and  irresponsible.  But  no  system  can 
possibly  make  Socrates  the  same  individ\ial  as  Plato,  or  regard  an  act  of 
yesterday  as  nununically  one  with  an  act  of  t(.)-day. 


THOUGHT.  225 

ence,  whereby  I  bring  in  (in-duco)  unobserved  facts,  and 
class  them  with  observed  facts.  Thus  I  attain  universal 
judgments  based  upon  experience.  But  this  wide  generality 
is  precarious ;  exceptions  may  always  conceivably  occuro 
This  characteristic  uncertainty  is  spoken  of  as  the  hazard  of 
induction  (§  121). 

Having  attained  universals,  thought  proceeds  to  deduce 
from  them  judgments  either  equally  or  less  general.  Deduc- 
tions are  of  two  kinds,  immediate  and  mediate  or  reasoning. 
The  development  of  their  forms  belongs  to  Logic. 

The  a  priori  sciences,  as  pure  mathematics,  proceed  from 
intuitive  universals  or  pure  principles,  and  employ  deduction 
only.  The  a  posteriori  or  empirical  or  inductive  sciences,  as 
physics,  chemistry,  etc.,  proceeding  from  facts  of  observation 
and  experiment,  attain  universals  by  induction,  and  then 
employ  deduction,  inferring  from  these  universals  special  or 
particular  cases. 

§  213.  It  will  be  well  to  remark  here  the  relation  in  which 
judgment  and  conception  stand  to  each  other.  A  slight  con- 
sideration shows  that  they  are  essentially  identical ;  related 
as  merely  different  aspects  of  the  same  thing.  When  an 
object  is  presented,  I  proceed  to  think  it  distinctly  by  analy- 
sis and  synthesis.  I  abstract. its  qualities  in  succession;  this 
is  analysis.  I  affirm  of  each  that  it  is  a  mark  of  the  thing ; 
this  is  synthesis,  and  the  affirmation  is  a  judgment.  If  these 
marks  are  collected  and  reduced  to  unity  by  an  act  of  con- 
ception, I  therein  affirm  or  judge  that  they  are  congruent, 
and  that  this  unity  characterizes  the  thing.  In  generalizing, 
I  affirm  a  mark  or  a  concept  to  be  common  to  several  objects. 
Hence,  each  of  the  three  movements  in  conceiving  is  a  judg- 
ment. So  also  in  classification,  when  I  am  systematizing  my 
concepts.  To  think  marks  in  is  to  affirm,  to  think  them  out 
is  to  deny. 

Every  concept,  then,  is  an  implicit  judgment.  It  is  the 
product  of  a  foregone  judgment  or  judgments  recorded  in  a 


226  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

word  or  sign,  and  it  is  amplified  only  by  judging,  by  thinking 
other  attributes  into  it.  On  the  other  hand,  every  judgment 
is  an  explicit  concept.  It  is  either  the  result  of  analyzing  a 
concept  into  its  original  components,  an  analytic  judgment, 
or  the  act  by  which  a  new  attribute  is  for  the  first  time 
annexed,  a  synthetic  judgment.^ 

§  214.  Having  examined  the  two  general  aspects  of  the 
process  of  thought,  conceiving  and  judging,  it  is  now  needful 
to  consider  the  relation  of  thought  to  other  powers. 

It  is  sufficiently  obvious  that  if  the  objects  thought  about 
are  not  themselves  present  to  sense,  the  thinking  is  conditioned 
on  memory.  Thought  limited  to  objects  actually  present  has 
very  little  range.  Excepting  this  narrow  case,  memory  fur- 
nishes the  materials  for  the  elaboration  of  thought,  and  thus 
becomes,  in  general,  its  condition.^ 

The  relation  of  thought  to  imagination  is  less  obvious.  The 
concept  is  representative  of  the  objects  of  intuition  from  which 
it  was  originally  derived,  and  whose  place  it  occupies  in  the 
further  processes  of  thought.  "  In  one  respect,  indeed,  con- 
ception may  be  regarded  as  representative  in  a  stricter  sense 
than  imagination.  Imagination,  though  representative,  is 
presentative  also,  and  so  far  has  a  close  affinity  to  sense.  It 
is  presentative  of  the  image,  which  is  itself  an  intuitive  ob- 

1  For  the  Kantian  distinction  of  judgments,  as  analytic  and  synthetic,  see 
Critique  of  Pure  Reaso7i,  Int.,  §  4. 

Also  observe  that  a  mark  is  potentially  a  concept,  and  a  concept  is  poten- 
tially a  mark.  A  concept  is  expressed  by  a  substantive  noun,  a  mark  by  an 
adjective  noun  ;  and  the  interchange  of  these  grammatical  forms  is  frequent, 
e.g.  man  is  a  mortal,  and  man  is  mortal.  The  distinction  consists  in  the  use 
made  of  the  notion ;  if  used  denotatively,  it  is  a  concept ;  if  used  connota- 
tively,  it  is  a  mark. 

2  On  the  relation  of  these  several  activities  it  is  noteworthy  that  in  the 
exercise  of  sensuous  intuition,  i.e.  of  perception,  there  is  an  affirmation  of 
distinct  present  existence  (§  98)  ;  in  memory,  the  affirmation  of  past  exist- 
ence ;  in  imagination,  of  potential  existence  ;  in  thought,  of  relative  existence  ; 
that  is,  on  the  hypothesis  of  the  present,  past,  or  possible  existence  of  two 
objects,  thought  affirms  or  denies  the  existence  of  a  relation  between  them. 


THOUGHT.  227 

ject  as  well  as  representative  of  the  object  of  sense.  But  the 
concept,  so  far  as  its  objects  are  concerned,  is  purely  represen- 
tative. It  presents  nothing  on  which  the  mind  can  rest  as  an 
adequate  object  of  consciousness,  nothing  which  is  not  in  its 
nature  incomplete  and  relative,  nothing,  in  short,  but  the  fact 
of  thinking.  Pure  thought,  if  by  that  expression  is  meant  the 
consciousness  of  general  notions  and  of  nothing  else,  is  an 
operation  which  perhaps  may  be  possible  to  higher  intelligence, 
but  which  never  takes  place  in  the  human  mind."  ^ 

Thought  being  thus  purely  representative,  relies  upon  an 
object,  presented  either  by  sense  or  imagination,  which  em- 
bodies its  conception.  Imagination  presents  an  image,  and 
it  is  this  image  on  which  the  mind  rests  as  an  adequate  object 
of  consciousness,  and  it  is  by  virtue  of  this  image  that  it  is 
enabled  to  elaborate  and  comprehend  the  concept.  Thus 
thought  is  conditioned  also  on  imagination.^  The  special 
exercise  of  imagination  in  which  it  acts  as  a  servitor  of 
thought  we  have  ventured  to  call  the  deliberative  imagina- 
tion (§  201). 

§  215.  The  concept  itself  cannot  be  imaged,  for  it  is  general, 
and  an  image  is  always  individual.^     How  then  does  imagi- 

1  Mansel,  Metaphysics,  p.  166. 

2  So  Aristotle:   "Common  notions,  voy)tiaTa,  are  not  without  images,  ovk 

dvev  (paPTaa-ndTuv.''^  —  Ilepi  ^vxv^,  iii,  7.     Cf.  id.  iii,  30.     So  also  Milton:  — 

"  In  the  Boul 
Are  many  lesser  faculties  that  serve 
Reason  as  chief;  among  these  Fancy  next 
Her  ofBce  holds;  of  all  external  things, 
Which  the  five  watchful  senses  represent, 
She  forms  imaginations,  airy  shapes, 
Which  Reason,  joining  or  disjoining,  frames 
All  what  we  affirm,  or  what  deny,  and  call 
Our  knowledge  or  opinion."  —  Paradise  Lost,  v,  100  sq. 

3  Psychologists  now  agree  that  the  general  notion  cannot  be  imaged, 
though  Locke  maintained  the  contrary.  Essay,  bk.  iv,  ch.  7,  §  9.  Indeed,  the 
supposition  involves  a  contradiction.  E.g.  I  have  the  notion  triangle,  a  figure 
of  three  sides.  It  is  applicable  to  several  species,  among  others  to  the  equi- 
lateral and  to  the  scalene.  Now  should  I  propose  to  image  triangle  in  its 
generality,  it  must  be  at  once  equilateral  and  scalene.     Here  emerges  the 


228  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

nation  enable  thought  to  realize  its  products,  how  does  it 
serve  to  this  end?  It  operates  in  two  waj^s ;  either  by  the 
intuition  of  a  case,  or  of  a  symbol.  The  exercise  of  thought 
under  the  former  mode  is  called  intuitive  thinking ;  under 
the  latter,  symbolical  thinking.^ 

In  intuitive  thinking  a  concrete  case  or  example  of  some 
individual  member  of  a  class  is  imaged  by  the  mind.  This 
individual,  by  embodying  all  the  marks  that  constitute  the 
concept,  is  made  to  stand  for  or  represent  all  members  of  the 
class.  Thus  when  thinking  of  triangle,  I  may  image  a  par- 
ticular triangle,  and  thereby  hold  in  mind  and  together  all 
the  marks  that  make  up  my  general  notion  of  triangle.  In 
doing  this  I  disregard  the  non-essential  marks  of  the  triangle 
imaged  here  and  now,  so  that  they  may  at  any  instant  be 
rejected  in  favor  of  those  of  any  other.  Or  instead  of  that, 
I  may  draw  a  triangle  on  paper,  and  then,  by  means  of  this 
object  of  sense,  without  the  aid  of  imagination,  entertain  and 
elaborate  my  notion.  So  any  object  of  sense  may  be  contem- 
plated with  reference  to  its  generic  marks,  and  as  representa- 
tive of  its  class.^ 

contradiction  that  its  sides  must  be  all  equal  and  all  unequal.  Hence  such 
an  image  is  impossible. 

The  mind  can  hnage  only  those  things  which,  in  their  elements  at  least, 
have  been  actually  experienced  in  presentative  intuition.  But  the  universe 
of  things  consists  of  individuals.  There  is  no  general  thing  existing  in  the 
external  world.  Generality  is  a  fiction  of  thought  (§  207),  and  has  no  exist- 
ence except  as  thought.  Hence  it  cannot  possibly  be  presented  as  an  oViject 
of  adventitious  experience,  and  so  cannot  be  nnaged.  Our  experience  is 
exclusively  of  individuals,  and  therefore  we  can  image  only  individuals. 

An  individual  is  "  e?is  indivisxan  in  se,  et  divisuin  ah  omni  alio;  .  .  .  id 
citpts  proprietates  alteri  simul  cnnvenire  non  possnntV  —  Porphyry.  "  What- 
ever occupies  a  distinct  portion  of  space  is  an  individual  object  of  external 
intuition  ;  and  vfhatever  occupies  a  distinct  moment  of  time,  without  exten- 
sion in  space,  is  an  individual  object  of  internal  intuition.  .  .  .  The  general 
notion  as  such  is  emancipated  from  all  special  relation  to  space  or  timg.  The 
definition  of  triangle  must  not  imply  where  it  exists ;  nor  the  definition  of 
anger  when  it  takes  place."  —  Mansel,  Meta.,  pp.  37,  39. 

'  Spf  §§  ir,2,  153,  and  150. 

■■'  When  1  am  looking  at  a  rose,  and  say  that  it  is  a  flower,  1  view  it  as 


THOUGHT.  229 

Intuitive  thinking  or  conception,  then,  is  that  in  which  an 
individual  case  or  example,  present  to  sense  or  imagination, 
and  embodying  the  attributes  of  a  general  notion,  is  regarded 
as  representing  all  members  of  its  class. 

§  216.  In  symbolical  thinking,  an  arbitrary  sign  or  symbol, 
either  perceived  or  imaged,  is  used  as  expressive  of  the  con- 
cept. Instead  of  representative  examples,  we  may  have  rep- 
resentative signs,  either  presented  to  sense  or  imaged  by  the 
mind.  Language  furnishes  a  system  of  such  signs.  All  words 
and  combinations  of  words  that  we  read  or  hear  are  sensible 
signs  representative  of  thought.  Ntmiina  sunt  notionum  tiotce. 
When  thinking  of  triangle,  instead  of  an  example  I  may 
image  merely  the  name  of  the  thing,  and  thereby  entertain 
the  thought. 

By  means  of  symbols  we  are  enabled  to  grasp  thoughts 
beyond  the  reach  of  intuition.  The  notion  civilization,  for 
instance,  is  too  complex  to  be  clearly  represented  by  an  exam- 
ple, but  we  hold  it  fast  by  this  word  which  is  its  sign.  Thus 
verbal  signs  supersede  intuitive  examples,  and  the  process  of 
thinking  becomes  algebraic.^ 

representing  the  class.  If  I  smell  its  perfume,  and  attend  to  that  quality  in 
the  sensation  that  marks  the  rose  odors  and  distinguishes  them  from  the 
jessamine  odors,  then  this  sense-perception  is  a  representative  example  of 
rose  odors.  So,  if  I  am  listening  to  some  one  singing  a  ballad,  I  may  think 
of  it  as  generically  different  from  operatic  or  sacred  song.  There  is  no  essen- 
tial difference  in  the  mode  of  thought,  whether  by  percept  or  by  image,  by 
object  or  by  subject-object.  There  is  a  difference  in  degree  of  facility,  some- 
times in  favor  of  one,  sometimes  of  the  other.  Geometrical  figures  drawn 
on  the  blackboard  help  a  beginner;  so  also  the  famous  "object  lessons  for 
children."  But  the  very  narrow  range  of  thinking  by  means  of  objects  of 
sense-perception  is  obvious. 

'  Investigation  by  the  geometric  method  is  intuitive  thinking  ;  that  by  the 
algebraic  method  is  symbolic  thinking.  By  the  former,  Newton  expounded 
the  celestial  system  in  the  Principia;  by  the  latter,  Laplace  elaborated 
La  Mecaniqtie  celeste. 

Why  is  it  that  the  first  step  in  school  education,  i.e.  learning  to  read  and 
write,  is  so  great  a  stride  ?  Why  should  it  divide  society  by  one  of  its  sharpest 
hnes?    The  illiterate  think  mostly  by  example;   so  far  as  they  think  sym- 


230  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Sj^mbolical  thinking  or  conception,  then,  is  that  in  which 
an  arbitrary  sign  or  symbol,  present  to  sense  or  imaged  by  the 
mind,  and  associated  with  the  attributes  of  a  general  notion, 
is  regarded  as  significant  of  all  members  of  the  class.^ 

§  217.  Being  able  to  employ  signs  of  thoughts  in  various 
and  changing  relations  without  calling  to  mind  the  meaning 
originally  assigned  to  each,^  our  thoughts  gain  in  celerity  and 
flexibility,  but  they  lose  in  distinctness,  and  are  in  danger  of 
being  false.^  Consequently,  it  is  needful  at  the  end  of  a  pro- 
cess of  thought,  and  even  occasionally  at  intermediate  stages, 
to  submit  the  result  to  the  test  of   an  example,  and  thus 

■bolically,  it  must  be  chiefly  by  imagining  the  sounds  of  words,  —  a  rather 
obscure  and  difficult  means.  Perhaps  the  prime  advantage  conferred  by  the 
humble  acquisitions  reading  and  writing  is  that  they  furnish  a  system  of 
visual  signs  available  for  symbolic  thinking. 

1  The  distinction  between  intuitive  and  symbolic  thinking  was  taken  for 
the  first  time  in  modern  philosophy  by  Leibnitz  in  his  Latin  tract  on  ' '  Knowl- 
edge, Truth,  and  Ideas,"  1684,  a  translation  of  which  is  appended  to  Bayne's 
English  edition  of  the  Port  Eoyal  Logic.  According  to  Hamilton,  this  dis- 
tinction superseded  in  Germany  the  whole  of  the  bitter  and  even  bloody 
controversy  between  Nominalism  and  Conceptualism  which  agitated  France 
and  England  during  several  centuries.  —  Logic,  §  30,  pp.  127,  129.  The  dis- 
tinction was  elaborated  by  Wolf,  a  disciple  of  Leibnitz,  in  his  Psijchologica 
Empiricn,  §§  o26,  .329.  I  find,  however,  the  same  distinction  taken  sharply 
and  clearly  by  Aristotle  in  De  Soph.,  i. 

2  "It  is  not  necessary,"  says  Berkeley,  "  even  in  the  strictest  reasonings, 
that  significant  names  which  stand  for  ideas  [notions]  should,  every  time 
they  are  used,  excite  in  the  understanding  the  ideas  they  are  made  to  stand 
for.  In  reading  and  discoursing,  names  are  for  the  most  part  used  as  lettoi's 
are  in  algebra,  in  which,  though  a  particular  quantity  be  marked  by  each 
letter,  yet,  to  proceed  rightly,  it  is  not  requisite  that  at  every  step  each  letter 
should  suggest  to  our  thoughts  that  particular  quantity  it  was  appointt'd  to 
stand  for."  —  Minute  rhiJosnpher,  Dialogue  vii,  §  8.  Established  and  familiar 
propositions  are  used,  like  algebraic  formulas,  without  our  looking  into  tlu'ir 
meaning  ;  and  words  are  combined  into  projiositions  without  our  stopping  to 
weigh  the  significance  of  each  in  its  new  connections. 

8  I  may  speak  of  a  trilateral  figure,  and  I  can  easily  image  one.  I  may 
also  speak  of  a  bilateral  figure,  but  when  T  try  to  image  it,  I  find  that  it  is 
non-sense.  So  is  it  when  one  says:  There  is  no  rule  without  exceptions  ;  for 
this  is  itself  a  rule,  and  if  it  have  exceptions,  there  are  rules  without  excep- 


THOUGHT.  231 

ascertain  the  possible  coexistence  of  the  attributes  in  a  corre- 
sponding object  of  intuition.  The  existence  of  a  class  is 
possible  only  if  the  existence  of  the  individual  members  is 
possible ;  hence  symbolical  cognition  supposes  intuitive  cog- 
nition, actual  or  possible,  as  its  condition,  and  derives  validity 
from  it.  This  testing  process  is  a  function  of  the  deliberative 
imagination.^ 

§  218.  The  special  function  of  thought  is  search  for  truth. 
Truth  is  the  abstract  name  of  a  quality,  a  contingent  quality, 
belonging  to  judgment.  A  judgment,  or  its  expression,  a 
proposition,  may  or  may  not  be  true.  It  is  true  when  the 
affirmation  or  denial  which  it  makes  is  in  accord  with  the  fact. 
The  usual  definition  is  :  Truth  is  the  agreement  of  a  cognition 
with  its  object.   That  is  :  Truth  is  the  correspondence  between 

tions.  Said  Voltaire:  "  Le  superflu,  c'est  le  vrai  nScessaire."  Pope  has  a 
satirical  "  Song  by  a  Person  of  Quality,"  beginning:  — 

"  Gloomy  Pluto,  king  of  terrors, 
Armed  in  adamantine  chains, 
Lead  me  to  the  crystal  mirrors, 
Watering  soft  Elysian  plains." 

Campbell  has  a  whole  chapter  on  this  point,  Fhil.  of  Bhetoric,  bk.  ii,  ch.  7. 
See  Mill's  Political  Economy,  bk.  iii,  ch.  1,  §  4  ;  which  work,  by  the  way, 
he  introduces  with  a  chapter  of  "  Preliminary  Remarks,"  in  which,  we  may 
understand,  he  takes  a  prospective  review  of  the  subject.  See  also  Stewart's 
Elements,  ch.  iv,  §  4  ;  Hume's  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  pt.  i,  §  7  ;  and 
Locke's  Essay,  bk.  ii,  ch.  22,  §  7  et  al. 

1  See  Mansel,  Meta.,  p.  169  sq. ;  and  Proleg.  Logica,  pp.  36  and  52.  He 
says:  "Like  a  bank-note,  a  symbol  is  representative  of  value  without  having 
an  intrinsic  value  of  its  own  ;  and,  like  the  bank-note,  its  real  worth  depends 
on  the  possibility  of  its  being  at  any  time  exchanged  for  coin.  But  as  the 
note  is  treated  in  practice  as  if  it  were  real  money,  so  commonly  we  treat 
symbolical  knowledge  as  if  it  were  itself  the  complete  consciousness  to  which, 
if  valid,  it  may  at  any  time  be  reduced."  The  test  of  symbolic  thought  is 
thus  the  image  or  intuition  of  an  example.  We  must  individualize  our  con- 
cepts, look  them  in  the  face,  envisage  them  ;  Ger.  anschauen.  This  test  is, 
however,  merely  negative  ;  it  does  not  determine  the  truth  of  the  thought, 
l3ut  merely  assures  us  of  self-consistency.  Still  it  is  evident  that  intuitive 
thought  is  a  necessary,  though  only  a  negative,  test  of  symbolic  thought. 


232  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

the  representation  we  make  of  an  object,  in  thought,  and  the 
qualities  presented  by  that  object  in  intuition.^ 

The  old  question :  What  is  truth  ?  seems  to  call  for  some- 
thing more  than  a  definition  of  the  word.^  It  seeks  a  univer- 
sal and  secure  criterion  of  truth.  Since  thought  is  the  highest 
cognitive  activity,  the  others  being  subservient,  there  is  no 
superior  authority  to  which  it  should  submit.  Therefore  it 
must  itself,  by  aid,  if  need  be,  of  the  subordinate  powers,  fur- 
nish the  criterion,  the  test  of  the  truth  of  its  own  products, 
if  any  such  criterion  there  be. 

It  has  just  been  stated  that  the  test  of  symbolical  thinking 
is  the  intuition  of  an  example.  But  this  is  merely  a  negative 
criterion  of  the  possible  existence  of  an  object  of  sense ;  that 
is,  whatever  cannot  stand  this  test  cannot  be.  Quite  simi- 
larly Logic  presents  us  with  negative  criteria  of  truth  in  the 
universal  and  necessary  laws  of  thought.  Whatever  violates 
these  laws  is  false,  because  thereby  thought  contradicts  itself. 
But  a  thought  may  be  perfectly  accurate  as  to  logical  form, 
and  yet  not  be  in  agreement  with  its  object.     Consequently 

1  Mansel,  Meta.,  p.  145.  riato's  definition  is:  Truth  is  conformity  with 
tlie  ideas.  Aristotle's :  Truth  is  the  agreement  of  knowledge  with  reality, 
T(?  yap  elfdi  TO.  TTpdy/jLa  r)  /nrj  dX-qdris  6  X670S  •^  feuSrjs  Xiyerai. —  Categ.,  ch.  12. 
This  dictum  he  particularizes,  in  Afeta.,  iv,  7,  thus:  "Affirming  non-existence 
of  the  existent,  or  existence  of  the  non-existent,  is  error  ;  but  affirming  exist- 
ence of  the  existent,  or  non-existence  of  the  non-existent,  is  truth."  His 
doctrine,  more  fully  stated  by  Ueberweg,  is:  "Truth  in  a  logical  judgment 
is  the  correspondence  of  the  combination  of  mental  representations  with  a 
combination  of  things,  or,  in  case  of  the  negative  judgment,  the  correspond- 
ence of  a  separation  of  representations  in  the  mind  with  a  separation  of 
things.  Falsity  [error]  in  judgments  is  the  variation  of  the  ideal  combination 
or  separation  from  the  real  relation  of  the  things  to  which  the  judgments 
relate."  —  Hist.  P/til.,  §  47.  The  scholastic  definition  is  tantamount:  "  Veri- 
tas est  adequatio  intellectus  et  rei,  secundum  quod  intcllectus  dicit  esse,  quod 
est,  vel  non  es.se,  quod  non  est."  —  Aqcinas,  Con.  Gen.,  ill),  i,  oh.  59.  On 
truth  and  error,  see  Hamilton,  Logic,  §§  90,  91. 

-  The  Greeks  used  the  question  to  push  pretenders  into  a  corner,  forcing 
them  either  to  commit  stupid  sophisms,  or  to  confess  ignorance.  The  Romans, 
in  their  profound  skepticism,  asked  it  in  scorn,  as  a  first  yet  unanswerable 
question.     See  John  18:  :IS. 


THOUGHT.  23S 

the  merely  logical  criterion  of  truth,  namely,  the  accordance 
of  the  cognition  with  the  universal  laws  of  thought,  is  noth- 
ing more  than  a  conditio  sine  qua  non^  or  negative  criterion 
of  truth.  Further  than  this  Logic  cannot  go,  and  of  the 
error  which  depends,  not  upon  the  form,  but  on  the  matter 
or  content  of  the  cognition,  it  has  no  test  to  offer. 

"  Of  the  truth  of  our  cognitions  in  respect  of  their  matter, 
no  universal  [positive]  test  can  be  demanded,  because  such  a 
demand  is  self -contradictory.  For  since  truth  is  the  agree- 
ment of  a  cognition  with  its  object,  this  object  must  be  ipso 
facto  distinguished  from  all  others.  Now  a  universal  crite- 
rion of  truth  would  be  that  which  is  valid  for  all  cognitions, 
without  distinction  of  their  objects.  But  it  is  evident  that 
since,  in  case  of  such  criterion,  we  make  abstraction  of  all 
content  of  a  cognition,  and  since  truth  relates  precisely  to 
this  content,  it  is  absurd  to  ask  for  a  universal  and  positive 
mark  of  the  truth  of  the  content."  ^ 

How,  then,  since  we  can  have  no  universal  and  positive 
.criterion  of  truth,  are  we  to  know  that  we  know  ?  For,  "  to 
know  that  we  know  what  we  know,  and  that  we  do  not 
know  what  we  do  not  know,  that  is  true  knowledge."  Giv- 
ing up  the  universal  criterion,  we  observe  that  all  knowledge 
originates  in  intuition  ;  that  pure  intuitions  or  principles  are 
necessary  truths,  we  necessarily  know  them  to  be  necessarily 
true  ;  that  empirical  intuitions  are  necessary  also  in  the  sense 
that  we  are  constrained  to  know  in  them  the  existence  of 
their  objects.  So  much  is  certain,  out  of  reach  of  all  ques- 
tion. Now  from  these  data  exclusively  we  make  logical 
inferences.     If  the  logic  be  good,  the  conclusion  is  equally 

1  Kant,  C.  P.  R.,  p.  51.  In  this  connection  he  remarks  :  "To  know  what 
question  we  may  reasonably  propose  is  in  itself  a  strong  evidence  of  sagacity 
and  intelligence.  For  if  the  question  be  in  itself  absurd  and  insusceptible  of 
a  rational  answer,  it  is  attended  with  the  danger  —  not  to  mention  the  shame 
of  him  who  proposes  it  —  of  seducing  the  unguarded  hearer  into  making 
absurd  answers,  and  we  are  then  presented  with  the  ridiculous  spectacle, 
described  by  the  ancients,  of  one  milking  a  he-goat  while  another  holds  a 
sieve." 


234  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

■certain ;  as,  for  example,  in  pure  mathematics.  But  if  the 
.axioms  be  not  strictly  pure,  or  if  the  empirical  facts  be  not 
perfectly  ascertained  and  justly  appreciated,  or  if  our  infer- 
ences be  not  strictly  logical,  we  should  doubt.  To  know 
that  we  know,  we  must  review  and  perfect  these.  Then  we 
have  truth.  If  from  the  nature  of  the  matter,  purification 
be  impracticable,  we  should  carefully  entertain  as  to  the 
conclusion  the  full  measure  of  doubt  that  belongs  to  the 
premises,  together  with  all  that  may  have  been  gathered  in 
the  logical  process.  Then  we  have  only  greater  or  less 
probability.  This,  perhaps,  is  the  meaning  of  Plato,  when 
he  speaks  of  experience,  wisdom,  and  reason  as  affording 
conjointly  a  Kpinjpiov  of  truth.^ 

§  219.  The  opposite  of  truth  is  error,  a  false  judgment,  the 
disagreement  of  a  cognition  with  its  object.^  All  primitive 
or  psychological  judgments  are  true ;  it  is  impossible  to  err 
in  a  fact  of  consciousness  (§  69).  Our  senses  never  deceive 
us  (§  160).  Pure  intuitions  are  certain  and  necessary  (§§  118, 
119).     Error,  then,  has  no  place  in  the  presentative  faculties. 

1  Politica,  582  a,  Step.  Many  criteria  have  been  proposed.  Descartes 
affirmed:  "All  that  is  very  clearly  known  and  perceived  is  true."  —  Mccl,  iii. 
But  he  admits  elsewhere  the  vagueness  of  this  criterion.  Wolf  gives  :  "  De- 
terminabilitas  prsedicati  per  notionum  subjecti."  But  this  applies  only  to 
explicative  propositions.  Hamilton  says:  "The  criterion  of  truth  is  the 
necessity  determined  by  the  laws  which  govern  our  faculties  of  knowledge  ; 
and  the  consciousness  of  this  necessity  is  certainty."  —  Logic,  §  90.  But 
this,  being  a  reference  to  the  laws  of  pure  logic,  is  merely  negative,  and  so 
too  narrow.  Thompson  says:  "Evidence  is  the  sole  means  of  establishing, 
and  therefore  the  sole  standard  for  testing,  the  truth  of  any  proposition." 
This  also  is  too  narrow,  since  it  relates  only,  on  the  other  hand,  to  empirical 
truth.  Besides,  it  involves,  as  he  says,  "the  whole  science  and  rules  of 
evidence."  —  OrUliim  of  the  Lairs  of  Thoyf/ht,  §  114. 

^  To  escape  confusion,  let  us  distinguish  veracity  and  falsehood  from  truth 
and  error.  Veracity  or  truthfulness  is  characterized  by  a  belief  in  the  agree- 
ment of  the  judgment  with  the  proposition  or  expression.  Falsehood  or  a 
lie  is  a  conscious  ilisagTeement  between  the  judgment  and  its  expression. 
Both  are  subjective ;  whereas  truth  and  error,  as  above  described,  are 
objective. 


THOUGHT.  235 

Imagination,  taken  strictly,  affirms  only  the  congruity  or 
incongruity  of  images,  and  this,  being  a  primitive  judgment, 
does  not  err.  The  primary  judgment  of  memory  is  a  fact  of 
consciousness,  a  primitive  judgment,  and  therefore  cannot 
err ;  its  secondary  judgment  is  an  inference  of  thought  from 
given  impressions,  and  so  is  liable  to  err  (§§  182,  183}.  Only 
logical  judgment  may  be  false,  may  involve  error ;  it  is 
thought  alone  that  errs. 

Why  should  thought  err?  In  symbolic  thinking  we  have 
a  test  to  discover  incongruity  (§  217).  The  principles  of 
Logic  furnish  a  criterion  that  saves  us  from  self-contradic- 
tion (§  218).  By  these  negative  tests  we  may  escape  absurd- 
ity, if  not  error ;  we  may  at  least  be  consistent,  which  is  a 
great  gain.  But,  moreover,  by  a  thorough  investigation  of  the 
principles  on  which  a  judgment  rests,  by  pursuing  them  to 
their  original  intuitive  sources,  we  may  determine  positively 
its  truth  or  falsity,  and  in  such  case  need  not  err.  If  this 
thorough  investigation  of  principles  and  process  be  beyond 
our  powers,  still,  in  many  cases,  we  may  be  able  to  go  far 
enough  to  estimate  fairly  the  degree  of  probabilit}^  belonging 
to  the  matter.  If  not,  then  we  should  suspend  judgment, 
and  rest  in  .contented  ignorance,  which  is  wiser  than  pre- 
sumptuous knowledge. 

But  to  be  content  not  to  know  is  commonly  too  hard  for 
us.  Impelled  by  instinct  towards  knowledge,  we  form,  often 
very  hasty  and  crude,  but  almost  always  very  decided  opin- 
ions about  all  sorts  of  matters.  And  so  we  blunder,  and 
stumble,  and  fall.  Carelessness,  •  lack  of  love  for  truth, 
indifference,  lack  of  interest,  and  consequent  thoughtlessness, 
leave  open  the  by-paths,  and  we  wander.  But  none  of  these, 
nor  a  neglect  of  the  means  in  our  power,  can  be  called  a 
cause  of  error,  for  they  are  all  negative,  and  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  negative  cause.  The  absence  of  a  thing  cannot 
properly  be  accounted  a  cause.  All  causes  are  present  and 
positive. 

No  doubt  our  opinions  are  largely  determined  by  our  feel- 


236  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

ings  and  desires.  Things  appear  to  be  true  or  false  according 
as  they  please  or  displease,  according  to  desire  or  aversion ; 
for  the  will  arrests  attention  npon  the  agreeable,  and  refuses 
to  consider  the  disagreeable. ^  But  these  several  activities 
are  all  conditioned  on  and  subsequent  to  cognitive  exercise, 
and  so,  however  influential,  are  not  the  primary  causes  of 
"error. 

§  220.  The  question  then  recurs :  Why  should  we  err,  and 
that  so  frequently,  so  fatally  ?  We  now  bring  the  charge 
against  imagination,  that  it  is  the  chiefest,  perhaps  the  sole 
direct  source  and  cause  of  error.^  In  the  right  adjustment 
and  exercise  of  our  faculties  imagination  is  the  servant,  the 
handmaid  of  thought.  But  too  often,  proud  in  her  queenly 
beauty,  and  haughty  in  her  fascinating  power,  she  becomes, 
by  unnatural  inversion,  the  mistress  of  thought,  a  mistress 
lawless  and  tyrannical.  All  the  illusions  of  sense  are  vain 
images,  and  its  delusions  are  false  inferences  induced  by 
imagination  (§160).  Again,  we  often  believe  that  we  remem- 
ber circumstances  which  never  in  fact  coexisted,  and  have 
mistaken  an  act  of  imagination  for  an  act  of  memory  (§  183). 
In  disguise  it  has  deceived  and  misled  us,  and  caused  us  to 

1  "  Ansi  Tesprit  marchant  d'uue  piece  avec  la  voluntg,  s'arr&te  a  regarder 
la  face  qu'elle  aime,  et  en  jugeant  par  ce  qu'il  y  voit,  il  regie  insensiblement 
sa  croyance  suivant  rincliuation  de  la  voluntij."  —  Pascal,  Pensees,  pt.  i, 
art.  (3,  §  13. 

2  The  indictment  is  not  new.  Says  Pascal:  "  Cette  superbe  puissance, 
ennemie  de  la  raison,  qui  se  plait  a  la  controler  et  a  la  dominer  pour  montrer 
combien  elle  pcut  en  toutes  choses,  a  6tabli  dans  riionime  une  seconde  nature. 
.  .  .  Elle  ue  pent  rendre  sages  les  fous,  niais  elle  les  rend  contents,  a  Penvi 
de  la  raison.  .  .  .  Qui  dispense  la  reputation,  qm  donne  le  respect  et  la 
veneration  aux  personnes,  aux  ouvrages,  aux  grades,  sinon  I'imagination  ? 
Combien  toutes  les  richesses  de  la  nature  sont  elles  insuffisantes  sans  son 
consentement  ?  L' imagination  dispose  de  tout ;  elle  fait  la  beautfi,  la  justice, 
et  le  bonheur,  qui  est  le  tout  du  monde.  .  .  .  Cette  maitresse  d'erreur  est 
d'autant  i)lus  fourbe  (ju'elle  ne  Test  i^as  toujours  ;  car  elle  serait  re^le  infailli- 
ble  de  la  v6rite,  si  elle  I'fitait  infaillible  du  mensonge.  Mais,  Ctant  le  plus 
fausse,  elle  ne  donne  acunne  marque  de  sa  qualitfi,  marquant  de  mume 
caractfere  le  vrai  et  le  faux."  —  H/id.,  §  3. 


THOUGHT.  237 

» 

judge  falsely.  Again,  when  testing  symbolic  thought,  the 
deliberative  imagination  often  presents  an  image  so  clear  and 
distinct,  so  congruous  and  consistent,  as  to  impose  upon  us, 
and  in  our  unguarded  weakness  we  accept  this  impression 
as  an  evidence  of  truth.  How  often,  too,  does  a  brilliant 
illustration  carry  captive  our  convictions  in  spite  of  sound 
argument.  A  frequent,  perhaps  the  most  frequent,  form  of 
error  is  an  over-hasty  generalization,  a  precipitate  induction. ^ 
No  induction  is  strictly  certain,  for  its  basis  is  empirical. 
The  numerous  modifications  which  each  of  the  physical 
sciences  has  undergone  furnish  historic  evidence  of  the  fact. 
But  we  often  overlook  this,  and  accept  a  mere  induction, 
perhaps  a  very  weak  and  even  a  groundless  induction,  with 
the  confidence  of  intuitive  truth.  This  can  occur  only 
under  the  influence  of  imagination  whose  vivid  representa- 
tion disperses  the  shadow  of  doubt.^ 

In  all  men  there  is  a  natural,  a  necessary,  a  devotional 
love  of  truth.  They  fail  often  to  attain  it  because  "it 
hideth,  and  the  labor  of  discovery  is  great,  and  the  recom- 
pense scanty ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  we  are  unceasingly 
solicited,  pressed,  agitated  by  the  imagination  and  the  pas- 
sions, whose  inspiration  and  impulse  it  is  always  agreeable 
to  obey.  Truth  is  a  pure  grace,  but  the  understanding  of 
truth  is  a  grace  of  such  character  that  it  must  be  merited  by 

1  The  Psalmist  corrects  himself :  "I  said  in  my  haste,  all  men  are  liars." 

—  Ps.  116:  11.  He  does  well ;  for  the  saying  included  himself,  and  therefore 
should  not  be  credited. 

2  Bacon  was  the  first  philosopher  who  attempted  a  systematic  and  exhnust- 
ive  enumeration  of  the  kinds  of  human  error,  and  he  ascribes  tlieni  all  to 
imagination.  He  made  a  quaint  classification  in  four  genera,  under  the  sig- 
nificant name  of  Idols  (idola,  eldos,  an  image),  in  the  sense  of  illusions, 
■described  as  if  presented  in  a  magic  mirror.  He  says  :  "  I  do  find,  therefore, 
in  this  enchanted  glass  four  idols,  or  false  appearances,  of  several  distinct 
sorts."   The  four  are,  Idola  tribus,  Idola  specus,  Idola  fori,  and  Idola  theatri. 

—  Nov.  Organ.,  lib.  i,  sum.  of  pt.  ii,  aph.  38  sq.  See  also  Hamilton,  Logic, 
Lee.  28  ;  and  Hallam,  Lit.  of  Mod.  Europe,  pt.  iii,  ch.  3,  §§  58,  59. 


238  MEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE. 

labor.^  But  men  love  not  labor,  and  so  imagination  usurps^ 
the  throne  of  thought.  Dazzling  and  complaisant  in  her 
ready  power,  she  wins  the  homage  due  to  the  truth  she 
feigns ;  while  truth,  far  removed  in  her  severe  simplicity,  i& 
prized  chiefly  through  her  brilliant  substitute.  "  Truth  may 
perhaps  come  to  the  price  of  a  pearl,  that  sheweth  best  by 
day,  but  it  will  not  rise  to  the  price  of  a  diamond  that 
sheweth  best  by  varied  lights.  But  howsoever  these  things 
are  thus  in  men's  depraved  judgments  and  affections,  yet 
truth,  which  only  doth  judge  itself,  teacheth  that  the  inquiry 
of  truth,  which  is  the  love-making  or  wooing  of  it,  the  knowl- 
edge of  truth,  which  is  the  presence  of  it,  and  the  belief  of 
truth,  which  is  the  enjoying  of  it,  is  the  sovereign  good  of 
human  nature." 

1  Malebranche,  Traite  de  Morale,  pt.  i,  ch.  5,  §  5.  "  It  is  a  mere  sophisma 
pigrum,  and  (as  Bacon  hath  said)  the  arrogance  of  pusillanimity,  which  lifts 
up  the  idol  of  a  mortal's  fancy,  and  commands  us  to  fall  down  and  worship 
it  as  a  work  of  divine  wisdom,  an  ancile  or  palladium  fallen  from  heaven." 
—  Coleridge,  Biog.  Lit.,  ch.  8.  For  the  final  quotation  see  Bacon,  Essay,  i. 
On  Truth. 


PART  FOURTH. 

FEELING. 


CHAPTER   I. 

CHARACTERISTICS. 

§  221.  We  are  now  to  consider  the  second  class  of  the 
generic  powers,  the  feelings. ^  These  are  modes  of  self-con- 
sciousness, or  subjective  consciousness,  in  logical  opposition 
to  cognitions,  wliich  are  modes  of  objective  consciousness 
(§§  71,  73).  Feeling  and  cognition  are  psychological  correla- 
tives, existing  only  in  coexistence.  The  state  of  conscious- 
ness that  is  objectively  a  cognition  is  subjectively  a  feeling. 
Every  cognition  implies  a  feeling,  and  every  feeling  implies 
a  cognition.  They  are  logically  distinguished  as  merely 
different  aspects  of  the  same  actually  indissoluble  mental 
mode,  as  really  inseparable  as  the  convex  and  concave  sides 

1  The  word  feeling  was  originally  the  name  of  the  tactile  sensation  only, 
but  has  been  extended  in  common  usage  to  all  states  of  consciousness  marked 
by  pleasure  or  pain.  The  cognate  term  Gefuhl  in  German  has  had  a  like 
expansion  of  meaning.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Greek  ata-e-rja-is ;  and 
also  of  the  Latin  sensus,  sensatio,  with  their  derivatives  in  the  modern 
Romanic  languages. 

Brown  extended  the  meaning  to  an  identity  with  consciousness.  —  PML 
of  Hum.  Mimh  Lee.  11.  Also  J.  S.  Mill.  See  him  quoted  in  §  55,  note.  So 
also  Bain  and  Spencer,  and  associationists  generally.  Says  Clifford:  "It 
means  thought  or  emotion  or  volition  or  sensation  of  any  kind  ;  anything  that 
goes  on  in  the  mind  may  be  called  a  feeling."  —  Seeing  find  TlnnJdng,  p.  88. 
This  violates  usage,  and  confuses  modes  that  are  clearly  distinguishable. 
See  §  97  and  its  note. 

239 


240  FEELIl^G. 

of  a  circular  arc.  Looked  at  on  the  subjective  side,  that  is, 
rehxtively  to  the  subject,  the  mode  is  a  feeling;  looked  at 
on  the  objective  side,  that  is,  relatively  to  the  object,  it  is  a 
cognition,  the  obverse  and  reverse  of  the  same  state.  As 
experienced  they  are  the  combined,  simultaneous,  or  rather 
the  single  consciousness  of  the  ego  and  non-ego  in  their 
essential  antithesis. 

That  a  cognition  is  objective  means  that  consciousness  is 
therein  relative  to  something  distinct  from  the  conscious 
subject.  A  feeling  is  subjective  in  that  consciousness  is 
therein  limited  to  the  pleasure  or  pain  experienced  by  the 
conscious  subject.  Specifically,  perception  is  a  kind  of 
cognition,  and  sensation  a  kind  of  feeling.  Perception  is 
the  consciousness  by  sense  of  the  qualities  of  an  object 
known  as  distinct  from  self.  Sensation  is  the  consciousness 
of  the  subjective  feeling,  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  which 
accompanies  that  act  of  knowledge.  In  the  complete  state, 
which  we  call  a  sense-perception,  perception  is  the  objec- 
tive element,  sensation  the  subjective  element  (§  97).  This 
contrast  or  opposition  of  perception  and  sensation  is  'an 
obtrusive,  but  still  only  a  special  example  of  the  law  that 
universally  divides  the  generic  phenomena  of  knowledge 
and  feeling.     They  always  correlatively  coexist.^ 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  external  object  causes  the 
sensation  alone,  which  then  causes  or  occasions  the  percep- 
tion, thus  making  sensation  antecedent  to  perception.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  case  of  intellectual  states,  it  is  said  that 
tlie  cognition  is  the  cause  or  occasion  of  the  concomitant 
feeling.  15 ut  in  fact  neither  is  the  chronological,  or  the 
psychological  antecedent  of  the  other.  There  is,  for  exam- 
ple, no  more  ground  for  holding  that  sensation  precedes 
perception,  than  the  reverse.     Indeed,  feeling  and  cognition 

1  See  Hamilton,  Meta.,  p.  335.  Matthew  Arnold  revived  a  phrase  originally- 
used  by  Swift  in  his  "Battle  of  the  Books,"  and  made  it  stand  as  a  mark 
of  culture  —  "sweetness  and  light,"  a  union  of  kindly  fooling  and  briglit 
intolloct. 


CHARACTERISTICS.  241 

in  general  are  equally  original  and  complementary,  and  can 
be  distinguished  only  logically. 

§  222.  But  though  always  correlatively  coexistent,  cogni- 
tion and  feeling  are  not  directly  proportional.  On  the  con- 
trary, feeling,  when  it  rises  above  a  certain  degree  of 
intensity,  obscures  cognition,  because  of  the  concentration 
of  consciousness  in  the  subjective  affection;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  an  acute,  intense  cognition  draws  consciousness 
away  from  the  feeling,  which  thereby  sinks  to  a  lower 
intensity  and  becomes  faint.  The  rise  of  one  is  at  the 
expense  of  the  other. 

Moreover,  in  some  special  sense-perceptions,  as  in  sight, 
the  perceptive  power  is  normally  very  acute,  while  the  sen- 
sation is  so  faint  as  to  be  hardly  discernible;  in  others,  as 
in  smell,  the  perception  is  quite  obscure,  while  the  sensation 
is  very  decided.  Hence,  the  stronger  the  sensation,  the 
weaker  the  perception,  and  vice  versa.  But  the  law  is  gen- 
eral, thus :  Cognition  and  feeling  exist  only  as  they  coexist, 
and  are  in  inverse  ratio.  ^ 

§  223.  While  thus  observing  the  relation  of  cognition 
and  feeling,  it  will  be  well  to  recall  that  change  has  already 
been  noted  as  a  condition  of  consciousness  in  general  (§  57). 
More  specifically  we  now  remark  that  change  is  necessary  to 
continuity  of  feeling.  We  soon  become  unconscious  of 
unremitted  impressions.  The  degree  of  feeling  is  propor- 
tional to  the  change,  and  abruptness  of  transition  enhances 
the  effect. 2  For  example:  When  the  temperature  of  the 
body  is  uniform  at  about  98°  F.,  we  feel  neither  warm  nor 
cold ;  a  variation  above  or  below  this  grade  excites  the  sense 
of   temperature.     It   is   only   after   want   that  we  feel  the 

1  Says  Kant:  "  Je  starker  die  Sinne,  bei  eben  demselben  Grade  des  auf 
sie  geschelienen  iMiiflusses,  sich  afficirt  fiihlen,  desto  weniger  leliren 
sie.  Uingekehrt,  wenn  sie  viel  lehreii  sollen,  miissen  sie  mas  sig  afficiren." 
—  Anthropologie,  §  20. 

-  See  Eain,  Emotions  and  Will,  p.  78. 


242  FEELING. 

blessing  of  plenty;  only  after  sickness  do  we  enjoy  health; 
only  after  war  do  we  really  feel  the  bliss  of  peace.  The 
feelings  that  attend  freedom  and  restraint,  power  and 
impotence  depend  largely  on  the  transition  from  one  to  the 
other.  The  effect  of  novelty,  of  news  of  all  sorts,  is  stim- 
ulating; that  bad,  or  even  good  news,  should  be  broken 
gradually  is  well  known.  ^ 

There  is  naturally  a  tendency  to  accommodate  one's  self 
to  any  continuous  condition,  which  is  called  the  subordinate 

1  "Sense,  properly  so  called,"  says  Hobbes,  "must  necessarily  have  in 
it  a  perpetual  variety  of  phantasms,  that  they  may  be  discerned  from  one 
another  ;  it  being  almost  all  one  for  a  man  to  be  always  sensible  of  one  and 
the  same  thing,  and  not  to  be  sensible  at  all  of  anything."  So  a  variety  of 
viands  at  table  is  requisite  to  the  enjoyment  of  taste  ;  imiformity  disgusts. 
A  person  having  fetid  breath  has  no  sense  of  it,  and  yet  is  sensitive  to  fugi- 
tive and  delicate  odors.  In  a  smooth  sailing  ship  we  lose  the  sense  of 
motion,  but  not  in  a  stage-coach.  The  contact  of  the  still  air  with  the  skin 
excites  no  tactile  sensation,  but  a  fitful  breeze  fanning  the  cheek  keeps  tac- 
tile consciousness  awake.  The  enormous  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  on 
our  bodies  is  unfelt,  unless  a  marked  variation  is  caused,  as  by  descending 
in  a  diving-bell,  or  ascending  in  a  balloon.  We  suffer  much  from  our  sudden 
and  extreme  changes  of  weather  ;  whereas  neither  the  Laps  suffer  from  cold, 
nor  the  Boers  from  heat.  The  effect  of  unvarying  fortune  is  exemplified  in 
the  insensibility  of  the  rich,  and  the  stolidity  of  the  poor.  Those  who  have 
experienced  opposite  circumstances  are  they  who  feel. 

Monotony  produces  tedium,  emmi,  and  some  variety  is  needful  for  a 
healthy  play  of  our  energies.  He  who  muses  much,  needs  to  be  amused. 
But,  as  Prince  Hal  says  :  — 

"  If  all  the  year  were  playing  holidays. 
To  sport  would  be  as  tedious  as  to  work ; 
But  when  they  seldom  come,  they  wished  for  come, 
And  nothing  pleaseth  but  rare  accidents." 

—  King  Henry  IV,  pt.  1,  A.  1,  sc.  2. 

"  The  feeling  of  tedium  or  e>ui?n","  says  Hamilton,  "  is  like  that  of  being 
unable  to  die,  and  not  being  allowed  to  live  ;  and  sometimes  becomes  so 
oppressive  that  it  leads  to  madness  and  suicide.  It  is  less  felt  by  the  uncul- 
tivated than  by  the  educated.  Our  easy  occupations  we  call  pastimes.  All 
occupation  is  either  labor  or  play.  In  both  there  must  be  ever  a  change  of 
object,  or  both  will  soon  grow  tiresome.  They  must  alternate,  or  we  shall 
never  know  true  enjoyment  in  life."  —  .1/^^r,  p.  017.  A  due  proportion 
between  uniformity  and  variety  is  somelinics  given  as  a  definition  of  objec- 
tive beauty.     More  generally,  a  mean  seems  to  be  most  pleasing. 


CHARACTERISTICS.  243 

law  of  accommodation.  No  feeling  can  long  persist  in  its 
original  intensity.  The  second  day  of  a  holiday  is  attended 
with  less  flush  than  the  first.  The  millionnaire's  accumula- 
tions strike  him  Avith  feebler  and  feebler  impulses.  The 
delights  of  knowledge,  and  even  of  virtue,  are  subject  to 
decline.  When  the  lower  level  of  either  pleasure  or  pain 
has  been  reached,  we  become,  as  it  were,  accommodated  to 
the  situation,  and  the  feeling  thenceforth  maintains  an  even 
tenor.  ^ 

The  principle  of  relativity  has  already  been  resolved  into 
the  shock  of  difference,  with  its  correlative  shock  of  simi- 
larity (§  59).  Now  be  it  observed  that  a  shock  is  not  at  all 
a  cognition,  but  strictly  a  feeling.  Hence  it  appears  that 
the  primary  movement  of  consciousness  lies  rather  in  feeling 
than  in  cognition,  the  shock  being  the  logical  antecedent  or 
condition  of  the  intellectual  discrimination.  Unless  we 
feel,  we  cannot  know.  In  the  shock  determined  by  the 
difference  between  two  objects  or  ideas,  we  feel;  in  the 
discrimination  we  make  between  them,  we  know.  The  con- 
sciousness of  the  shock  is  feeling;  the  consciousness  of  the 
difference  is  cognition. ^ 

§  224.  Novelty  has  already  been  mentioned.  It  is  not 
itself  a  feeling,  but  merely  expresses  the  superior  force  of 
all  stimulants  of  feeling  on  being  first  applied.  It  is  a  fact 
which  contributes  to  raise  the  intensity  of  our  energies,  and 
consequently  to  determine  a  corresponding  degree  of  pleasure 
or  pain.  It  is  realized  chiefly  in  youth  when  all  feelings 
are  fresh.  New  scenes,  new  modes  of  life,  constitute  the 
attractions  of  travel.  Inventions,  discoveries,  artistic  effects, 
especially  in  the  pages  of  story,  have  the  charm  of  novelty, 
and  in  fashion  it  is  supreme.     Novelty  in  pain  has  the  same 

1  It  is  said  that  at  the  overthrow  of  the  Bastile  the  prisoners  manifested 
no  joy  at  tlieir  release.  Long  and  unintermitted  confinement  had  accom- 
plished its  perfect  work  of  accommodation  to  bondage. 

2  "We  note  the  common  phrases :  a  shocking  impropriety,  a  startling  event, 
a  striking  remark,  a  surprising  likeness. 


244  FEELING. 

enhancing  effect.      The  first  encounter  with  a  cause  of  pain 
involves  the  worst  experience. 

As  variety  or  change  is  opposed  to  monotony  inducing 
tedium,  so  novelty  is  opposed  to  familiarity.  Novelty  is 
the  absence  of  familiarity,  and  so  is  merely  negative  and  not 
itself  a  feeling.  But  familiarity  is  positive,  a  feeling  quite 
general  and  of  great  moment.  It  is  the  feeling  correlative 
to  memory,  and  so  to  all  powers  conditioned  on  memory. 
In  a  very  important  sense  it  seems  to  be  the  basis  of  all  the 
convictions  of  memory.  It  attends  repetition,  and  so  is 
distinguishable  from  the  shock  of  similarity  that  attends 
simultaneous  impressions,  but  must  be  considered  as  merely 
another  form  of  this  ultimate  experience  (§§  182-3). 

The  strength  of  the  feeling  of  familiarity  is  proportioned 
either  to  the  vivacity  of  a  single  impression,  or  to  the  fre- 
quency of  the  subsequent  repetitions,  the  word  being  more 
commonly  applied  to  the  latter  case.  It  will  also  be  largely 
determined  by  the  degree  of  attention  given  to  the  ante- 
cedent impression.  All  memory,  but  especially  its  primary 
judgment,  seems  to  be  based  upon  and  guaranteed  b}^  this 
peculiar  and  unmistakable  feeling  of  familiarity.  AVhen  I 
meet  a  stranger  a  second  time,  when  I  write  my  name  for 
the  thousandth  time,  because  of  the  familiarity,  I  feel  sure 
that  these  have  been  known  before.  Mediate  perceptions 
are  not  usually  thought  of  as  involving  memory.  When, 
for  example,  I  judge  that  two  sounds  come  from  different 
directions  (§  166),  is  there  any  appreciable  reference  to  past 
experience?  Only  perhaps  in  the  unmistakable  feeling  of 
familiarity  with  the  direction  of  sounds,  which  implies 
previous  experience.  In  all  cases  this  feeling  is  the  ground 
of  our  confidence  in  the  judgment. 

§  225.  The  distinction  between  feeling  and  desire  is  to 
be  more  fully  stated  hereafter.  It  is  admissible  here  to  refer 
to  §  74,  Avith  the  remark  that  the  distinction  is  usually 
neglected.      It    seems,    however,    of    great   importance,    and 


CHARACTERISTICS.  245 

quite  clear.  In  desire  there  is  essentially  a  want,  a  longing, 
an  impulse  towards  some  object  of  cognition.  In  feeling 
there  is  no  want,  no  longing,  no  impulse  whatever.  "It  is 
altogether  different  to  feel  hunger  or  thirst  and  to  desire  its 
appeasement;  and  again  different  is  it  to  desire  its  appease- 
ment, and  to  enjoy  the  feeling  afforded  in  the  act.  Feel- 
ing belongs  exclusively  to  the  present,  desire  only  to  the 
future;  for  it  is  a  longing  either  to  maintain  the  present 
state,  or  to  exchange  it  for  another.  "^  Thus  desire  is  not 
feeling,  but  an  activity  which  feeling  sets  in  motion.  We 
are  now  undertaking  a  consideration  of  the  feelings  only, 
excluding  the  desires. 

§  226.  There  are  several  marks  or  qualities  which  are 
characteristic  of  feeling  in  general,  that  is,  found  in  feelings 
of  all  classes  and  in  feelings  only,  and  so  distinguish  them 
from  all  other  mental  activities.  One  primary  and  most 
important  is  consciousness  of  self. 

That  the  consciousness  of  self,  of  my  own  existence, 
originates  and  is  constant  in  feeling  is  an  easy  deduction. 
In  every  cognition  there  is  essentially  an  opposition  between 
a  subject  knowing  and  an  object  known.  The  subject,  then, 
is  not  cognized,  else  it  would  be  both  subject  and  object  at 
once,  and  these  being  contraries  cannot  coexist.  Hence  the 
consciousness  of  the  subject,  its  self-consciousness,  not  being 
found  on  the  cognitive  side  of  the  mental  state,  must  be 
grounded  in  the  correlative  feeling.  Given  a  cognition  of 
an  object,  then  in  the  correlative  feeling  is  given  self.  Thus 
the  consciousness  that  I  am  is  essential  in  the  original  fact 
that  I  feel. 2 

Hence  it  is  that  I  distinguish  myself  from  the  rest  of  the 
world  so  absolutely  that  this  distinction  has  an  entirely 
different  value  from  the  distinction  of  another  thing  from  a 

1  Hamilton,  3Ieta.,  p.  572. 

2  For  the  distinction  between  self-perception  and  self-consciousness,  see 
§  109. 


246  FEELING. 

third.  Each  of  my  states,  all  that  I  suffer  or  do,  is  marked 
off  immediately  by  a  feeling,  which  is  lacking  when  I  con- 
sider the  doing  or  suffering  of  another.  In  feeling,  then,  is 
to  be  found  the  motive  of  the  peculiar  distinction  by  which 
each  person  sets  himself  over  against  the  universe,  and  the 
consciousness  of  his  own  existence  as  contradistinguished 
from  every  other  existence.^ 

That  the  consciousness  of  the  ego  or  I  myself,  of  my  OAvn 
being,  lies  primarily  and  indeed  exclusively  in  feeling,  and 
moreover  is  an  essential  element  in  each  and  every  feeling, 
is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  the  intensity  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  self  varies  with  the  intensity  of  feeling.  When 
cognitive  exercise  is  intensified,  the  correlative  feeling  is, 
according  to  the  law  of  inverse  ratio,  enfeebled,  and  such 
states  are  attended  by  a  comparative  forgetfulness  of  self; 
but  where  there  is  great  pain  or  passion,  cognition  is  enfee- 
bled, and  the  consciousness  of  self  predominates.  Hence, 
not  in  cognition,  but  in  feeling  is  self  given. ^ 

The  primary  consciousness  of  a  feeling  and  an  after  cogni- 
tion of  it  should  be  discriminated.  The  former  is  experi- 
enced, and  involves  the  consciousness  that  I  am,  when 
indeed  I  do  not  at  all  think  about  it.  The  most  ignorant 
person,  the  new-born  babe,  must  be  fully  conscious  of  self- 

1  Lotze  emphasizes  this,  and  adds:  "Diese  beiden  Leistungen  also,  sein 
eigenes  Wesen  zu  kennen,  und  sich  als  ein  Selbst  zu  fiihlen,  sind  mit  einan- 
der  nicht  nothwendig  verkniipft.  Als  das  erste  haben  wir  eben  dieses 
unmittelbare  Selbst  g  e  f  ii  h  1  to  betrachten,  dessen  Vorhandeiisein  ebensowohl 
wie  seine  Lebhaftigkeit  ganz  unabhiingig  sind  von  deni  Grade  der  Selbst- 
e  r  k  e  n  n  t  n  i  s  s,  die  wir  gewohnlicli  unter  dem  Namen  des  Selbst  b  e  w  u  s  s  t- 
seins  denken.  Vielmehr  ist  diese  letstere  nur  die  im  weiteren  Verlanf 
unserer  geistigen  Entwicklung  zu  Wegc  komniende  denkende  Interpretation 
jener  urspriinglichen  nur  in  der  Form  des  Gefiihls  niogliclien  innereu  Erfah- 
rung."  —  GrumlzYuje  der  Ps>/choIofjie,  Dictate,  §  52. 

2  This  discovery  of  the  consciousness  of  self  in  feeling  rather  than  in 
cognition  would  justify  a  correction  of  the  famous  "  Cogito,  ergo  s?/?»"  of 
Descartes.  It  would  read  more  accurately :  I  feel,  therefore  I  am.  But  the 
illation  cannot  be  allowed ;  as  an  enthymeme  it  is  false  to  the  fact,  which 
fact  is  more  truly  expressed  in  the  form :  I  am,  in  that  I  feel. 


CHAR  A  CTERIS  TICS.  247 

existence  in  every  sensation.  ^  The  feeling  may  be  eventu- 
ally objectified  even  while  it  still  exists,  and  analyzed  by 
thought,  and  thus  I  come  to  a  knowledge  that  I  am,  which 
is  quite  different  from  the  simple  and  original  consciousness 
of  it,  the  mere  feeling  it.  All  feel  it  constantly;  some, 
perhaps  many,  never  think  it. 

§  227.  Strict  certainty,  the  correlative  of  immediate  cogni- 
tion, is  the  feeling  attending  a  consciousness  of  necessity; 
that  is,  in  so  far  as  there  is  necessity  on  the  objective  or 
cognitive  side,  its  psychological  correlative,  a  feeling  of 
certainty,  exists  on  the  subjective  side.  Since  all  intuitions 
a.re  attended  by  this  feeling,  and  since  they  are  component 
elements  in  every  cognition,  it  follows  that  the  feeling  of 
certainty  relative  to  them  intermingles  with  every  state  of 
consciousness.  It  also  attends  the  results  of  rigid  demon- 
stration. In  character  it  is  strict,  absolute,  admitting  of  no 
degrees  and  incompatible  with  any  measure  of  doubt  (§  69).^ 

Belief,  the  subjective  correlative  of  mediate  cognition,  is 
the  feeling  attending  all  forms  of  representative  knowledge. 
Since  in  every  cognitive  activity  there  is  always  an  exercise 
of  the  representative  faculties,  it  follows  that  the  feeling  of 
belief  relative  thereto  is  also  intermingled  with  every  state 
of  consciousness.  It  has  many  degrees  of  intensity,  and  is 
compatible  with  doubt.  In  its  highest  form  it  approximates 
certainty,  but  never  attains  it;  like  a  conic  curve  constantly 
approaching  yet  never  reaching  its  straight  asymptote.  As 
inference  never  becomes  intuition,  so  belief  never  becomes 
strict  certainty.  As  there  is  good  reason  for  distinguishing 
mediate  from  immediate  knowledge,  so  it  is  proper  to  dis- 

'  Even  the  brute  must  be  conscious  of  self-existence,  but  surely  cannot 
have  a  notion  of  it. 

2  It  is  this  feeling  vs^hich  is  referred  to  by  Aristotle  when  he  says  that 
knowledge,  in  the  last  analysis,  reposes  on  a  blind  and  necessary  belief.  So 
also  Hamilton:  "A  fact  of  consciousness  is  one  whose  existence  is  given 
and  guaranteed  by  an  original  and  necessary  belief."  —  Meta.,  p.  188. 


248  FEELING. 

tinguish   belief   from   certainty;    though   indeed   the    latter 
word  is  often  inaccurately  used  for  a  liigh  degree  of  belief. 

The  logical  or  formal  opposite  of  belief  is  disbelief,  but  as 
a  mental  fact  they  are  one,  disbelief  being  belief  of  the 
contrary.  The  psj^chological  and  real  opposite  of  belief  is 
the  feeling  of  doubt.  These  two  always  coexist,  but  in 
inverse  ratio.  With  the  highest  belief,  falling  just  short  of 
certainty,  there  is  some  remainder  of  doubt,  of  uncertainty. 
Descending  the  scale,  while  belief  diminishes,  doubt  in- 
creases, but  does  not  reach  its  maximum  in  ignorance,  but 
along  with  a  minimum  of  belief.  Doubt  cannot  exist  where 
there  is  no  trace  of  belief.  Ignorance,  a  pure  negation  of 
both  knowledge  and  feeling  in  respect  of  any  matter,  lies 
beyond.  Certainty  and  ignorance,  then,  are  not  the  termini 
of  this  psychological  scale,  but  are  just  beyond  its  opposite 
ends.  As  ignorance,  a  negation  of  belief,  is  never  accounted 
a  degree  of  doubt,  so  certainty,  the  negation  of  doubt,  should 
never  be  reckoned  a  degree  of  belief.  As  doubt  never  be- 
comes blank  ignorance,  so  belief  never  becomes  strict  cer- 
tainty. ^ 

1  In  psychological  treatises  generally  the  doctrine  of  certainty,  belief,  and 
doubt  is  either  neglected  entirely  or  slighted,  or  else  confused  with  tliat  of 
knowledge.  The  confusion  arises  from  the  intimate  relation  of  belief  and 
knowledge.  Truly  they  are  inseparable,  yet  cannot  be  identified.  The 
words  to  know  and  to  believe  are  often  used  interchangeably,  either  as 
implying  the  other,  to  know  being  the  stronger  expression  ;  but  accurate 
use  distinguishes  them,  e.g.  Isa.  43  :  10  ;  1  Tim.  4  :  3.  One  is  thought  of  as 
conditioning  the  other.  The  famous  dictum  of  Aristotle,  5ei  yap  iriiyThieiv 
rbv  fj.avddmvTa  ('Zo(})ia-T.,  2),  accords  with  the  humble  Crede  ut  intelligas  of 
Anselm,  but  contrasts  with  the  hauglity  IntcJVnje  ut  crt'das  of  Abelard.  This 
last  seems  to  be  the  true  logical  relation,  as  already  indicated  in  §  81. 

The  doctrine  that  certainty,  belief,  and  doubt  are  merely  simple  feelings 
does  not  derogate  from  their  importance,  but  rather  serves  to  bring  feeling 
forward  to  its  true  position,  and  show  its  weighty  importance  in  human 
nature.  The  common  si)eech  of  men  supports  our  view,  since  it  always 
recognizes  these  mental  states  to  be  feelings,  as  seen  in  the  familiar  phrases, 
I  feel  quite  certain,  I  feel  sure,  or  assured,  I  feel  a  strong  conviction,  I  feel 
very  doubtful,  etc.  The  complex  state,  reliance,  trust,  faith,  in  which  belief 
is  a  predominant  element,  is  likewise  recognized  to  be  feeling  in  the  phrase, 


CHARACTERISTICS.  249 

Mediate  judgment  and  belief  are  the  obverse  and  reverse 
of  the  same  mental  state,  but  the  strength  of  the  belief  does 
not  depend  on  the  soundness  or  accuracy  of  the  judgment, 
but  upon  its  clearness  and  distinctness,  or  its  singleness,  all 
alternatives  being  obscured  or  eliminated.  What  is  really 
false  may  thus  be  heartily  believed.  An  error  is  an  error 
only  when  taken  for  truth,  and  the  correlative  feeling  may 
mount  to  the  highest  conviction.  So  it  is  that  belief  attends 
the  false  when  thought  of  as  true,  just  as  the  feeling  of 
moral  approbation  attends  wrong  conduct  when  judged  to  be 
right.  1 

§  228.  Every  feeling  is  marked  by  pleasure  or  pain.  It 
has,  therefore,  been  proposed  to  make  a  primary  division  of 
feelings  into  pleasant  and  painful.  But  this  gives  insuffi- 
cient ground  for  subdivisions.  Indeed,  the  distinction  is 
not  always  sharply  marked,  being  of  degree  rather  than  of 
kind.  Pleasant  feelings  often  graduate  into  painful  feel- 
ings, and  vice  versa.,  without  change  of  any  other  quality,  or 
even  of  name,  by  a  change  of  intensity  only.  A  pleasing 
musical  tone  may  gradually  become  so  loud  as  to  be  displeas- 
ing. Pleasant  expectation  may  pass  into  painful  anxiety. 
It  is  better,  therefore,  to  take  them  together,  though  oppo- 
sites,  as  a  characteristic  of  feeling  in  general. ^ 

I  feel  confident.  The  whole  matter  deserves  an  expanded  treatment  beyond 
what  our  present  limits  will  permit ;  but  if  we  have  truly  and  clearly  indicated 
the  right  place  for  these  modes  of  consciousness  in  the  psychological  system, 
and  their  relations  to  other  modes,  this  alone  is  a  great  gain.  For  the  senti- 
ment of  truth,  see  §  251. 

1  Opinion  primarily  means  a  feeling  of  conviction  of  a  truth  on  merely 
probable  evidence.  "Every  opinion,"  says  Montaigne,  "is  strong  enough 
to  have  had  its  martyrs";  and  Luther  cries:  "0  doxa  !  doxa  !  quam  es 
communis  noxa  !  "  Emotion  by  heightening  the  intensity  of  its  correspond- 
ing idea,  greatly  influences  belief,  and  our  desires  react  in  like  manner  to 
determine  opinion.  "  Quse  volunt  sapiunt,  et  nolunt  sapere  quse  vera  sunt," 
said  St.  Hilary  ;  and  so  Demosthenes  :  BovXerai  rovd'  ^Karros  /cat  o'lerai.  — 
Ohjnth.,  iii. 

2  "Pleasure  and  pain,"  says  Hamilton,  "are  the  phenomena  which  con- 
stitute the  essential  attribute  of  feeling  under  all  its  modifications."  —  Meta., 


250  FEELING. 

Both  pleasure  and  pain  are  positive,  but  either  may, 
Avith  reference  to  the  other,  be  viewed  as  negative.  Abso- 
lute pleasure  or  absolute  pain  never  exists.  Actually  they 
always  coexist  in  the  coexistence  of  various  feelings,  and 
tend  to  neutralize  each  other,  so  that  the  total  state  is  only 
relatively  pleasant  or  painful,  or  perhaps  neutral.  One 
form  of  relative  pleasure  arises  from  contrast,  in  the  mere 
diminution  or  cessation  of  pain.^ 

Aristotle's  explanation  of  these  phenomena,  referring  them 
to  their  causes,  has  been  very  generally  accepted.  Pleasure 
is  the  effect  of  certain  harmonious  relations,  of  certain  agree- 
ments ;  pain  is  the  effect  of  certain  unharmonious  relations, 
of  certain  disagreements.  The  pleasurable  is  therefore  prop- 
erly called  the  agreeable,  the  painful,  the  disagreeable. 
Pleasure  is  the  reflex  of  spontaneous  and  unimpeded  energy. 
Pain  is  the  reflex  of  over-strained  or  repressed  energy. 
Here  the  term  spontaneous  refers  to  subjective,  the  term 
unimpeded  to  objective  perfection.  Each  power  tends  spon- 
taneously, that  is,  of  its  proper  nature  and  without  effort, 
to  put  forth  a  certain  maximum  of  free  energy.  If  this 
maximum  be  reached  there  is  pleasure.  If  less,  the  energy 
is  repressed,  if  more,  it  is  over-strained,  and  there  is  pain. 
The  term  unimpeded  stipulates  that,  in  order  to  pleasure, 
the  object  should  not  check  the  spontaneous  spring  of  the 

p.  573.  See  his  distribution.  —  /r?.,  p.  602.  "Inasmuch  as  suffering  treads 
always  on  the  lieels  of  deliglit,  and  each  kind  of  sweet  has  its  cognate  bitter, 
it  would  be  divorcing  the  closest  relationship  to  partition  the  human  feelings 
into  pleasures  and  pains  as  the  primary  division  of  the  whole,"  —  Bain, 
Emotions  and  Will,  p.  77. 

1  Plato,  in  the  Philebxis,  taught  that  pleasure  is  merely  relative,  tlie  absence 
of  or  passing  from  pain,  dei  yiyvdfjLevov,  ovd^Trore  6p.  Kant  adopted  this  view, 
according  to  the  quotation  in  Hamilton's  Meta.,  p.  5i)9  sq.  But  in  another 
place  Kant  says:  "Sie  sind  einander  nicht  wie  Erwerb  und  Mangel  (+  und 
0),  sondern  wie  Erwerb  und  Verlust  (+  und  — ),  d.  i.  eincs  dem  andern  nicht 
bios  als  Gegenthell  (cnntrndirtnn'r,  sc.  logice  oppositnm),  sondern  audi  als 
Widerspiel  {contrarie,  sc.  realitier  oppositum)  entgegengesetzt."  —  A7ithro- 
pologie,  §  59.  Aristotle  hold  that  both  are  positive,  and  his  views  now 
generally  prevail.  —  Nirom.  Ethics,  bk.  x. 


CHARACTERISTICS.  251 

energy  towards,  nor  stimulate  it  beyond,  its  natural  maxi- 
mum. Thus  all  pleasure  arises  from  the  free  natural  play 
of  our  faculties ;  all  pain,  from  their  repression  or  their 
over-strain.  More  tersely  and  more  widely:  The  normal 
gives  pleasure;  the  abnormal,  pain.^ 

Pleasure  and  pain  taken  together  have  been  regarded  as 
the  fundamental  and  sole  determinant  of  character  and  con- 
duct; but  we  shall  find  in  the  sequel  that  there  are  other 
determinants  which  often  oppose  and  overcome  this  one. 
The  application  of  the  principle  has  been  further  extended 
to  explain  the  entire  nature,  not  only  of  man,  but  of  all 
sentient  beings;  for  the  doctrine  of  the  evolution  of  the 
varied  forms  of  animal  life  from  primordial  forms  by  nat- 
ural selection,  is  grounded  on  the  natural  impulse  toward 
pleasure  and  shrinking  from  pain.^ 

lA  famous  dictum  of  Descartes  is:  " Tota  nostra  voluptas  posita  est 
tantum  in  perfectionis  alicujus  nostrse  conscientia."  —  Ejnst.,  pt.  i,  No.  6. 
Says  Kant:  "Pleasure  is  tlie  feeling  of  the  furtherance  (Beforderung),  pain 
-of  the  hindrance  of  life."  So  Herbart :  "Feeling  is  the  immediate  percep- 
tion [?]  of  hindrance  or  furtherance  among  the  presentations  extant  at  any 
moment  in  consciousness,  i.e.  the  immediate  consciousness  of  the  momentary 
rising  or  sinking  of  the  mental  vital  activity."  —  Cf.  Lotze,  Psychologie, 
Dictate,  §  47.  Says  Bain:  "States  of  pleasure  are  connected  with  an 
increase,  states  of  pain  with  an  abatement,  of  some  or  all  of  the  vital  func- 
tions."—  3Iind  and  Body,  p.  59.  Spencer  says  :  "Pains  are  the  correlatives 
of  actions  injurious  to  the  organism,  while  pleasures  are  the  correlatives  of 
actions  conducive  to  its  welfare."  —  Data  of  Ethics,  §  33. 

For  illustration :  Extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  the  one  stimulating  the  vital 
functions  to  excessive  action,  the  other  depressing  them,  are  painful ;  whereas 
a  medium  temperature  is  pleasant.  Darkness  and  also  silence  long  continued 
are  depressing  and  painful ;  intense  light  and  sound  are  exciting  and  pain- 
ful ;  but  the  medium  exercise  of  the  eye  and  ear  is  pleasant.  Harmony  is 
especially  pleasing ;  but  discordant  colors  or  sounds,  harsh  lights  or  grating 
noises  irritating  the  nerve  conduits,  are  painful.  In  hope  there  is  a  healthful 
stimulus ;  depression  in  despair.  The  pain  of  tedium,  ennui,  arises  from  a 
repressed  natural  tendency  to  action.  The  more  varied  the  objects  presented 
to  thought,  the  more  varied  and  vivacious  our  activity,  the  intenser  will  be 
the  enjoyment  of  life.     See  §  223,  note. 

2  See  Darwin,  Origin  of  Species,  ch.  4  ;  but  Spencer,  passim. 


252  FEELING. 

§  229.  A  negative  characteristic  of  feelings  in  general  is 
that  they  are  spontaneous,  or  at  least  involuntary;  that  is  to 
say,  Ave  cannot  at  will  directly  originate,  or  control,  or 
suppress  any  feeling.  The  sole  function  of  will  is  to  con- 
centrate the  cognitive  consciousness  on  an  object,  which  is 
voluntary  attention  (§  89).  Any  influence,  therefore,  voli- 
tion may  have  over  other  activities  is  only  indirect,  only 
through  attention.  It  can  excite  or  repress  feeling  only  by 
a  command  of  its  causes  and  conditions,  which,  however 
effectual,  is  mediate  control.  Therefore  the  feelino-g,  in. 
themselves  considered,  are  wholly  involuntary.  When  their 
causes  are  unknown  or  obscure,  we  call  them  spontaneous. 

The  rare  and  difficult  art  of  self-mastery  implies  control 
of  feeling.  The  opposite  is  passion.  This  is  a  subjective 
state,  either  of  feeling  or  desire,  or  of  both,  so  intense  that 
will  is  overpowered  by  blind  instincts,  the  intellect  being 
darkened  according  to  the  law  of  inverse  ratio,  and  tlie 
sufferer  from  self  becomes  j)assively  enslaved.  If  will  suc- 
cessfully resists  this  subjection,  it  is  done  by  withdrawing 
from  the  exciting  object,  that  is,  by  attending  to  some  other. 
This  persisted  in,  the  passion  subsides;  but  it  appears  to  be 
flight  rather  than  victory.  It  is  much  the  same  when  the 
exciting  object  continues  present,  and  one  maintains  self- 
control,  restrains  action,  speaks  calmly  and  holds  an  imi)as- 
sive  countenance,  by  giving  his  attention  strongly  to  thoughts 
of  duty,  or  fit  conduct,  or  consequences  of  passionate  action 
in  the  case;  then  the  flight  is  not  so  far.  But  one  may 
conquer  self,  yet  only  indirectly.  If  attention  be  fixed,  if 
the  cognitive  consciousness  be  strongly  concentrated  on  the 
exciting  object  itself,  then,  by  the  law  of  inverse  ratio,  the 
objective  side  of  the  mental  state  is  intensified  at  the  expense 
of  the  sul)joctive  side.  Thus  a  determined  intellectual 
activity  relative  to  the  object  restrains  and  subdues  passion- 
ate feeling.  This  is  victory.  A  humane  surgeon  calmly 
and  steadily  does  his  work,  and,  though  pitiless  for  the  time, 
is  not  so  before  and  after.     The   coolness   of  a  general  is 


CHARACTEEISTICS.  253 

perhaps  due  to  intense  attention  to  the  phin  and  progress  of 
the  battle. 

When  attention  is  firmly  fixed  on  an  object,  the  causes  of 
feelings  other  than  those  attending  it  are  inoperative. 
Hence  extreme  enthusiasm,  or  powerful  emotion  of  any 
kind,  may  make  us  insensible  to  physical  pain,  and  even 
gentle  emotions  assuage  bodily  suffering.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  effect  of  fixing  attention  on  the  feeling  itself  as  a 
subject-object,  tends  to  increase  its  quantity  and  intensity. 
A  slight  discomfort,  if  heeded,  soon  becomes  intolerable. 
Dis-ease  becomes  disease.  A  cherished  sentiment  becomes 
a  passion. 

§  230.  It  is  a  general  characteristic  of  feeling  that  it 
tends  to  produce  certain  specific  physical  effects,  both  in  the 
orsfans  of  movement  and  in  the  viscera.  Smiles  and  tears 
are  examples.  Every  pleasure  and  every  pain,  every  mode 
of  feeling,  has  a  definite  wave  of  effects  which  speads  more 
or  less  widely  through  the  nervous  system,  affecting  organic 
functions,  or  manifest  in  expressive  movements. 

This  diffusion  of  feeliiig,  as  it  is  called,  must  be  distin- 
guished from  reflex  action.  Tlie  latter  may  or  may  not  be 
attended  by  consciousness ;  the  former  is  always  attended  by 
consciousness.  Reflex  actions  have  a  very  limited  range, 
each  being  strictly  confined  to  its  single  effect;  whereas  in 
feelincr  there  is  an  influence  diffused  over  the  members  more 
widely,  a  general  wave  of  effects.  But  the  chief  distinction 
is  that  in  reflex  action  mind  is  not  at  all  concerned,  unless 
it  may  be  as  affected ;  but  in  diffused  feeling  mind  is  pri- 
marily the  cause  of  the  physical  changes. 

Reflex  action  has  been  designated  as  purely  physical 
instinct  (§  36).  The  diffusion  of  feeling,  being  partly 
mental  and  partly  physical,  may  be  termed  psja^ho-physical 
instinct.  Hereafter,  under  desire,  we  shall  find  a  third 
class  of  instincts,  those  purely  mental,  the  psychical  instincts 
(§  258).     All   instincts   are   involuntary   and   spontaneous. 


254  FEELING. 

Generally,  if  the  action  be  anticipated,  it  may  be  inhibited ; 
if  it  have  already  begun,  it  may  be  suppressed  by  volition. 
In  the  psycho-phj^sical  instincts,  however,  this  is  true  only 
of  movements  dej^ending  on  the  voluntary  muscles.  Organic 
effects,  such  as  blushing,  are  mostly  beyond  our  power.  The 
suppression  of  displa}^  may  become  habitual,  yet  the  feelings 
themselves  will  still  occur,  though  not  unmodified  by  the 
refusal  to  allow  them  their  natural  vent.^ 

Feeling  being  the  subjective  side  of  cognition,  it  follows 
that  when  a  cognition  ceases,  the  feeling  should  cease.  But 
in  fact  feeling  often  seems  to  persist,  and  to  subside  only 
gradually,  as  in  joy  and  sorrow.  This  seeming  persistence 
is  because  we  commonly  confound  the  feeling  itself  with  its 
physical  effects.  The  latter  may  persist,  but  the  former 
ceases  to  be  Avhen  the  correlative  cognition  ceases  to  be,  its 
physical  effects  becoming  in  turn  the  causes  of  sensations 
more  or  less  continuous. 

The  effects  of  feeling  in  physiognomic  expression  are 
largely  through  the  facial  nerve.  Different  fibres  of  its 
motor  branches  determine  different  movements  of  the  face  in 
response  to  specific  feelings.  The  lifted  or  frowning  brow, 
as  in  supercilious  pride,  or  in  anger,  pain,  doubt,  or  embar- 
rassment, is  very  expressive,  and  easily  read.  The  connnon 
elevation  of  the  lip  and  nose  gives  expression  to  disdain  or 
disgust.  There  are  nine  muscles  moving  the  mouth,  making 
it  the  most  expressive  feature,   far  more  so  than  the  eye. 


1  "Most  of  our  emotions,"  says  Darwin,  "are  so  closely  connected  with 
their  expression,  that  they  hardly  exist  if  the  body  remains  passive.  Louis 
XVI,  when  surrounded  by  a  hostile  mob,  said :  '  Am  I  afraid  ?  Feel  my 
pulse.'  So  a  man  may  intensely  hate  another  ;  but  until  his  bodily  frame 
is  affected,  he  cannot  be  said  to  be  enraged."  —  Expression,  p.  239.  This 
recalls  that  Aristotle,  in  De  Anhna,  says:  "Very  often  a  thing  takes  place 
which  has  to  be  described  by  different  men  in  different  ways.  Supposing  a 
man  is  angry,  lie  would  be  so  described  by  the  poet  or  the  historian.  Thus 
the  poet  would  say,  this  man  is  in  a  boiling  rage,  Jie  is  exceedingly  angry, 
and  is  likely  to  do  certain  things.  But  the  naturalist  would  say,  there  is  a, 
boiling  up  of  the  blood  about  his  heart." 


CHARACTERISTICS.  255- 

This  power  of  expression  is  seen  in  smiles,  pouting,  the 
curled  lip  of  scorn,  the  depressed  corners  in  sadness,  the 
open  mouth  of  wonder,  and  many  others.  The  tones  of 
the  voice  correspond.  ^  Next  to  the  facial,  the  respiratory 
nerves  are  most  susceptible,  as  in  sighing,  breathless  sur- 
prise, and  panting  eagerness.  The  convulsive  movements 
of  the  diaphragm  in  laughter  and  sobbing  are  noticeable 
displays,  the  latter  due  to  partial  and  transient  paralysis. 
During  the  sway  of  certain  passions,  as  anxiety,  fear,  terror, 
all  the  muscles  of  the  body  become  relaxed,  the  motor  powers 
of  the  brain  and  spinal  cord  being  depressed.^ 

The  organic  effects  of  feeling  are  those  produced  on  the 
glands,  lungs,  heart,  stomach,  kidneys,  and  viscera  gener- 
ally, and  on  the  skin.  Effusion  from  the  lacrymal  gland  is 
an  accompaniment  of  grief,  but  there  are  also  tears  of  merri- 
ment, of  joy  and  of  anger.  Cheerfulness  promotes  diges- 
tion, while  all  depressing  feelings  tend  to  arrest  the  healthy 
action  of  the  stomach,  liver,  bowels,  and  kidneys.  In  fear, 
the  mouth  is  parched  by  a  suppression  of  saliva,  and  a  cold 
sweat  breaks  out  on  the  skin.  The  disturbed  action  of  the 
heart  under  emotion  is  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  influence 
of  feeling  on  the  movements  of  an  organ  supplied  by  nerves 
of  the  sympathetic  system.     This  influence  is  so  great  that 

1  The  language  or  articulate  expression  of  feeling  consists  in  the  few 
interjections  that  belong  to  speech,  as  Oh  !  Ah  !  Alas  !  To  these  add  words 
and  phrases  used  interjectionally,  as  Bravo  !  Hurrah !  Dear  me  !  Alas  for 
the  rarity  of  human  charity  !  This  is  a  very  limited  means  of  expression, 
far  more  so  than  facial  change  and  gesticulation,  and  it  utterly  fails  unless 
the  tone  corresponds.  Music,  however,  song  without  words,  is  so  exclu- 
sively and  widely  expressive  of  emotion  that  it  might  fairly  be  named  the 
language  of  feeling.  On_"Le  Language  des  Emotions,"  see  Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes  for  March  1st,  1887. 

2  Expression  is  a  relief.  A  groan  is  a  solace.  A  sigh,  a  flood  of  tears, 
discharges  a  surplus  of  nervous  excitement,  thus  preventing  the  reaction 
which  suppression  would  ensure,  and  the  consequent  exaltation  of  feeling. 
A  secret  is  a  burden  until  told.  A  shout,  a  burst  of  applause  is  followed  by- 
renewed  calm. 


256  FEELING. 

the  heart  is  popuhirly  spoken  of  as  the  special  seat  of  feeling, 
as  the  brain  is  of  intelligence. ^ 

§  231.  In  conclusion  we  will  now  state  the  logical  distri- 
bution of  feelings,  determined  by  specific  characteristics. 

It  will  be  observed  that  desires  are  excluded  from  this 
classification,  being  reserved  for  subsequent  and  distinct 
treatment.  Yet  some  anticipation  in  the  discussion  will 
perhaps  be  unavoidable,  because  of  the  intimate  relation  of 
feelings  and  desires.  They  commingle  and  coexist,  act  and 
react  upon  each  other,  though,  in  general,  feeling  excites 
desire,  and  hence  stands  naturall}^  and  logically  prior.  Both 
are  wholly  subjective,  and  in  them  lie  one's  character  and 
disposition,  just  as  his  talents  and  abilities  lie  in  the  objec- 
tive powers  of  cognition  and  volition.  In  consequence  of 
this  intimacy,  feelings  and  desires  have  a  number  of  names  in 
common,  and  a  term  properly  belonging  to  one  is  often  in 
usage  transferred  to  the  other.  Passion,  for  examj)le,  is 
recognized  in  either,  or  in  both.  Most  t]-eatises  do  not 
distinguish  between  them,  and  hence  mucli  confusion  and 
variety  of  doctrine  in  the  literature  of  the  subject  (§  225). ^ 

1  See  Miiller,  Physiology,  pp.  932-4  ;  and  Sir  Charles  Bell's  Anatomy  of 
Expression  (1844). 

■■^  Kant  divides  feelings  (Gefiihle)  into  sensual  and  intellectual.  Tlie 
sensual  are  those  of  sense  or  physical  pleasures,  and  those  of  imagmatioi: 
or  pleasures  of  taste.  Tlie  intellectual  ai'e  those  connected  witli  the  concepts 
of  the  understanding,  and  those  connected  with  the  ideas  of  pure  reason.  — 
Anthropologic,  bk.  2.  He  treats  of  desires  (Beghrungsvennogen)  apart  from 
feelings  in  bk.  3.  Brown  divides  feelings  into  immediate,  prospective  and 
retrospective,  confusing  desires  with  them.  —  Phil.  <>f  Ihtm.  Mind,  J^ec.  i'^2. 
Hamilton  divides  feelings  first  into  pleasures  and  pains.  —  Lee.  44  (see  §  22S). 
Afterward  he  divides  them  into  sensations  and  sentiments,  which  latter  he 
subdivides  into  the  contemplative  and  the  practical.  Under  the  practical 
sentiments  he  introduces  desires.  —  Lee.  45.  Bain  does  not  distinguish  feel- 
ing and  desire. —  Emotions  and  Will,  see  p.  11.  The  two  are  confused  also 
by  McCosh.  —  The  Feelings.  Waitz,  following  suggestions  of  Herbart,  divides 
into  feeling  proper  (1,  formal,  2,  fiualitative)  and  complex  emotional  states, 
which  latter  are  made  to  include  desires. 


CHARACTERISTICS.  257 

By  keeping  clear  of  the  desires  many  difficulties  are 
avoided,  but  many  remain.  A  rigid  classification  is  perliaps 
impossible.  It  would  seem  that,  if  our  view  of  feelings  as 
the  subjective  side  of  cognitions  be  true,  the  task  should  be 
easy,  and  consist  merely  in  transferring  the  divisions  and 
subdivisions  of  cognition  to  feeling,  and  marking  the  correl- 
atives. This  is  the  case  so  far  as  perception  proper  and 
sensation  are  concerned.  But  beyond  these  we  find  it 
impracticable.  For  illustration,  many  feelings  accounted 
simple  in  themselves  have  very  complex  correlative  cogni- 
tions. Shame  at  wrong  conduct,  for  example,  implies 
introspection,  and  perhaps  memory,  with  thought,  and  this 
under  a  law  of  duty  discerned  by  pure  reason.  It  is  evident 
that  it  cannot  be  classed  as  correlative  to  any  one  of  these 
exclusively.  Hence,  after  sensaiion,  some  other  ground  of 
classification  must  be  sought.  As  sufficient  for  the  purpose 
of  orderly  discussion,  we  have  adopted  the  following :  — 

SCHEME   OF   THE   FEELINGS. 

I.   Consciousness. 

1.  Objective  consciousness,  or  Cognition. 

2.  Subjective  consciousness,  or  Feeling. 

(1)  Sensation. 

a.   Sensus  vagus. 
h.   Sensus  fixus. 

(2)  Emotion. 

(3)  Sentiment. 

a.   Sensuous. 
h.    Pure. 

(«)  Intellectual. 

(h)  Ethical. 

The  ground  of  the  several  subdivisions  will  be  given  in 
the  progress  of  the  discussion.     Cf.  §  76. 


258  FEELING. 


CHAPTER   II. 

SENSATION. 

§  232.  Sensations  bear  a  specific  relation  to  the  organism. 
Tliej,  together  with  the  attendant  perceptions,  are  the  effects 
of  external  physical  causes.  The  immediate  perception  is  of 
the  proximate  cause  as  an  immediate  object ;  the  sensation  is 
the  subjective  side  of  the  same  mental  state.  Sensations  are 
sometimes  described  as  physical  feelings,  and  sentiments  as 
mental  feelings.  Sensations  have  a  physical  basis,  but  are 
none  the  less  strictly  mental  states,  as  truly  so  as  sentiments. 
Perhaps  it  is  sufficient  to  say  simply  that  sensations  are  the 
feelings  that  attend  the  exercise  of  sense,  and  that  senti- 
ments attend  the  exercise  of  intellect. 

The  distinction  between  sensation  and  perception  was 
noted  in  §  97,  and  their  inverse  ratio  has  been  repeatedly 
mentioned.  It  remains  to  say  that  the  diffusion  of  feeling 
(§  230)  should  be  distinguished  from  sensation.  In  sensa- 
tion the  feeling  is  an  effect,  in  diffusion  it  is  a  cause. 
True,  diffusion  causes  a  cpiaai  sensation,  as  when  one  [)ain- 
fuUy  shudders  at  the  thought  of  crime,  when  horror  chills, 
when  a  blush  burns.  But  these  diffusive  effects  of  feelincr 
in  general  should  be  distinguished  from  the  primary  sensa- 
tions attending  the  senses  proper. 

§  233.  The  sensus  var/us,  as  in  })ure  pain  or  in  the  sense 
of  temperature,  is  highly  subje(>tive  (§  29).  The  fact,  how- 
ever, tliat  we  locate  many  of  these  sensations  is  evidence  of 
percipient  power.  Under  this  head  are  included  a  variety 
of  sensations,  ministering  for  the  most  part  to  tlie  oigaiiic 
functions,   and  to  the  conservation  of  the  body.      Nearly  all 


SENSATION.  259 

parts  of  the  frame  have  their  several  feelings  of  comfort  and 
pleasure,  of  discomfort  and  pain ;  but  in  some  of  the  deeply 
seated  organs  no  strong  sensation  occurs,  unless  in  the  form 
of  pain  indicating  a  disordered  condition.  Several  distinct 
groups  of  these  feelings  are  discernible,  of  which  the  follow- 
ing are  examples :  — ■ 

The  nerves  and  nerve  centres  determine  a  class  of  sensa- 
tions according  to  the  organic  condition  of  their  own  tissue. 
Pain  arising  from  wounds,  diseases,  headache,  toothache, 
and  neuralgia,  should  probably  be  classed  as  pure  pain. 
But  nervous  exhaustion  produces  a  distinct  sensibility, 
while  repose,  refreshment,  and  stimulants  engender  an  oppo- 
site condition.  Under  the  general  term  nervousness  is 
included  quite  a  variety  of  sensations,  usually  arising  from 
a  waste  of  nervous  energy  and  substance.  This  pain  is  not 
acute  but  massive,  having  quantity  rather  than  intensity. 
It  is  widespread  and  oppressive,  and  is  expressed  by  col- 
lapsed features,  restlessness,  and  fretting,  and,  when  extreme, 
drives  to  madness  and  suicide.  The  feeling  arising  from  a 
healthy  and  fresh  condition  of  the  nervous  tissue  is  of  an 
opposite  character  and  a  pleasurable  consciousness.  The 
nervous  substance  is,  of  course,  necessary  to  all  forms  of 
sensibility,  but  we  are  here  noting  the  effect  of  its  own 
state,  and  not  the  effect  propagated  from  some  other  tissue. 

The  sensations  attending  respiration  include  the  enjoy- 
ment of  pure  air,  and  the  various  shades  of  ojjpression  from 
foul  air,  lack  of  breath,  and  suffocation.  The  influence  of 
pure  air  is  stimulating  and  spreads  over  the  system,  elevat- 
ing other  functions  by  improving  the  quality  of  the  blood. 
But  in  the  lungs  themselves  is  felt  a  pleasurable  sensibility, 
not  acute,  but  refreshing.  No  feelincr  arises  from  the  luno-s 
in  ordinary  steady  action,  but  either  acceleration  or  retarda- 
tion at  once  gives  rise  to  the  characteristic  sensations.  The 
feelings  of  insufficient  or  impure  air  are  manifested  in  faint- 
ness,  weariness,  exhaustion,  and  suffocation.  No  voluntary 
effort  can  long  maintain  suspended  respiration. 


260  FEELING. 

Digestion  affords  all  the  conditions  of  a  sense,  and  like 
the  sense  of  temperature  niiglit  fairly  be  assigned  to  the 
sensus  jixus.  There  is  an  external  object,  the  food;  a  dis- 
tinct organ,  the  alimentary  canal ;  and  a  set  of  sensations, 
distinct  and  specific,  arising  from  contact.  Excluding  taste, 
the  sensation  arising  from  a  healthful  meal  is  massive,  I'ich, 
and  luxurious.  Its  magnitude  appears  in  its  ability  to  sub- 
merge many  irritations,  and  for  the  time  to  rule  conscious- 
ness. The  feelings  attending  unsatisfied  hunger  and  thirst 
become  states  of  prevading,  massive,  deep,  and  intolerable 
wretchedness.  They  are  more  intense  than  nervous  depres- 
sion, and  accordingly  we  take  more  precautions  against 
them.  They  incite  furious  passions  which  we  call  wolfish. 
The  feeling  of  nausea  is  distinctly  stomachic,  exciting  reflex 
muscular  convulsions  that  result  in  vomiting.  An  experi- 
ence of  sea-sickness  enables  one  to  estimate  the  depth  of 
misery  reached  by  this  sensation.  Deranged  digestion  pro- 
duces a  depression  of  spirits  difficult  to  resist.  One  pos- 
sessed by  the  demon  Dyspepsia  is  not  himself,  is  hardly 
accountable,  and  lives  in  gloom  and  wretchedness.^ 

§  234.  The  sensations  of  the  sensus  jixus  are  now  to  be 
examined.  Those  of  the  two  somatic  senses  (§  22  sq. )  are 
similar  to  those  of  the  sensus  vagus.  The  muscular  sensation 
is  the  massive  sense  of  pressure,  which  within  limits,  as  in 
squeezing  the  hand,  or  in  the  hug  of  affection,  is  pleasur- 
able ;  but  in  higher  degrees  it  becomes  oppressive  and  pain- 
ful, as  in  cramp  and  spasm.  According  to  Brown-Sdquard, 
the  pain  is  in  proportion  to  the  resistance  offered  to  the 
muscular  contraction. 

Fatigue  is  a  muscular  sensation.     Over-fatigue  is  painful, 

1  While  the  writer  is  responsible  for  the  general  treatment  of  the  feelings, 
he  must  acknowledge  his  great  indebtedness  to  the  excellent  works  of  Mr. 
Bain  for  very  many  of  the  details  in  this  and  other  chapters.  They  have 
been  used  freely,  even  as  to  phraseology,  without  minute  indications,  in  the 
hope  that  this  general  acknowledgment  would  be  deemed  sufficient. 


SENSATION.  261 

is  sometimes  used  as  a  punishment,  and  is  a  part  of  the 
miseiy  attending  toil.  Many  causes  of  suffering  are  called 
burdens.  Within  limits,  fatigue  is  pleasurable,  as  from 
walking,  running,  dancing,  swimming.  The  lassitude  that 
follows  such  pleasurable  muscular  exertion  is  agreeable. 
To  this  must  be  added  the  luxury  of  slumber,  for  the  massive 
sensation  we  experience  when  falling  asleep  has  its  seat 
mostly  in  the  muscular  tissue. 

§  235.  The  tactile  sensation  excited  by  soft  clothing,  a 
glove,  or  a  cushion,  is  agreeable,  not  acute,  but  massive,  and 
resembling  the  sensation  of  gentle  warmth.  Pleasurable 
contact  keeps  a  new-born  animal  by  its  mother's  side.  A 
gentle  slapping  or  stroking  of  the  hand,  as  in  caress,  is 
agreeable.!  But  when,  instead  of  soft  touch  extending  over 
considerable  area,  we  have  intense  action  over  small  area,  as 
by  the  stroke  of  a  whip,  an  acute  and  painful  sensation 
results,  so  intense  as  to  make  the  whip  the  most  effective 
instrument  of  torture. 

Tickling  is  a  peculiar  sensation,  and  may  become  an 
intolerable  agony,  exciting  convulsive  laughter,  sneezing, 
jerking  the  limbs,  and  extraordinary  efforts  at  deliverance. 
Clamminess,  arising  from  the  adhesion  of  some  foreign  sub- 
stance to  the  skin,  is  an  uneasy,  disagreeable  feeling.  The 
skin  is  also  liable  to  feelings  not  due  to  contact,  and  hence 
called  subjective  sensations;  such  as  the  creeping  feeling, 
as  if  produced  by  a  crawling  insect,  and  numbness,  or  the 
tingling  of  a  limb  asleep. 

§  236.  Of  the  cephalic  senses  the  sense  of  smell  is  the 
most  subjective  (§  4).  The  varieties  of  odor  are  endless, 
and  their  classification  difficult.  The  following  will  per- 
haps be  sufficient  for  our  present  purposes  :  — 

1  "  The  sensation  specially  due  to  contact  in  a  kiss,  or  other  gentle  caress, 
disappears  in  the  greater  strength  of  the  accompanying  sentiment,  and  the 
consequent  diffusive  thrill."  —  Bain. 


262  FEELING. 

First,  the  fragrant  odors,  or  those  that  appeal  to  the  ol- 
factory sensibilities,  and  represent  the  pure  and  jjroper 
sensations  of  smell.  The  odors  of  the  violet,  rose,  jessa- 
mine, orange,  lemon,  lavender,  and  rosemary  are  examples. 
We  call  them  sweet  odors. ^  The  opposite  is  stench.  It  is 
intense  rather  than  massive,  and  we  are  discomposed  rather 
than  depressed  by  it.  Asafoetida,  sewer  smells,  and  the 
cadaverous  odor  are  examples. 

Secondly,  fresh  odors  are  those  that  owe  their  character  to 
the  sympathy  of  the  lungs.  Eau  de  Cologne,  the  resinous 
perfume  of  the  pine  forest,  the  balmy  odors  of  the  field  and 
garden,  are  examples.  The  opposite  is  the  suffocating  odor, 
as  of  a  red-hot  stove,  or  the  effluvia  of  a  crowd. 

Thirdly,  the  appetizing  odors,  producing  a  sympathetic 
effect  on  the  stomach,  as  the  savory  smell  of  roasting  meat. 
The  opposite  is  the  nauseous  odor,  as  of  rotten  eggs. 

Fourthlj-,  the  pungent  odors  are  such  as  seem  to  excite, 
with  the  olfactory,  the  tactile  nerves.  Ammonia  or  smelling 
salts,  nicotine  or  snuff,  pepper  and  mustard  are  pungent. 
Snuff-takers  who  have  lost  the  power  of  smelling  the  sweet 
odors,  are  still  susceptible  of  the  nicotine  pungency. 

§  237.  Taste  is  less  subjective  and  more  percipient  than 
smell  (§  7).  For  this  reason  perhaps  it  is  that  tastes  are 
more  distinctly  remembered,  and  hence  their  repetition  more 
eagerly  sought.^     A  viand  or  a  wine  tasted  to-da}-  may  be 

1  "Sweetness  is  a  name  for  a  variety  of  pleasm-es.  Derived  orii^inally 
from  taste,  it  is  extended  to  smells,  to  sounds  and  to  several  of  the  hisiher 
emotions,  such  as  the  tender  affections  and  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  in 
art.  These  feelings  are  so  far  of  a  kindred  nature,  as  to  suggest  and  support 
each  other.  They  all  agree  in  being  forms  of  pure  passive  pleasure,  and  in 
this  they  resemble  repose,  wanntli  and  liealthy  digestion.'"  —  Bain,  Sciixes 
and  Intellext,  p.  150.  For  the  present  classification,  see  /(/.,  p.  \o'-\  sq.  It  is 
gi'ounded  on  the  effects  produced  on  our  organs.  Linnieus  made  seven 
classes.     See  Longet,  p.  151. 

-  Yet,  as  Longet  observes,  in  dreaming  of  a  banquet  we  see,  but  neither 
siurll  iinr  taste  the  viands. ,  For  the  following  classes,  see  Senses  and  Intellect, 
p.  144  Ai\.     It  is  taken  in  part  from  Gmelin's  Chemistry, 


SENSATION.  263 

confidently  pronounced  the  same  as  one  tasted  long  ago. 
The  sensuous  pleasures  of  taste  are  great  and  strongly- 
marked,  but  they  should  be  distinguished  from  the  sensa- 
tions of  the  alimentary  canal,  relish  and  nausea.  A  health- 
ful state  of  the  digestive  organs  and  hunger  are  the  requisite 
conditions  of  a  strong  relish.  When  hunger  is  satisfied, 
there  still  remains  the  enjoyment  of  sweets,  as  at  dessert, 
due  to  their  independent  effect  on  the  gustatory  nerves. 
After  sea-sickness,  when  there  is  no  relish  for  food,  the  taste 
of  sweet  or  bitter  is  still  acute. 

Tastes  may  be  more  clearly  classified  than  odors.  First, 
the  sweet  taste,  of  which  sugar  furnishes  the  type,  due 
generally  to  the  actual  presence  of  sugar,  the  faint  sweetness 
of  the  alums  being  an  exception.  The  true  opposite  is 
bitter,  as  in  quinine  and  aloes.  As  sweetness  is  the  pleas- 
ure proper  to  taste,  so  bitterness  is  the  pain,  and  these 
words  are  used  to  describe,  metaphorically,  many  kinds  of 
pleasure  and  pain. 

Secondly,  acid  taste,  which  when  moderate  is  an  agreeable 
pungent  stimulus,  as  in  vinegar,  lemonade,  and  acid  fruits 
generally.  When  powerful,  the  sensation  is  sharp  and 
penetrating,  producing  the  pain  of  a  burn,  rather  than  of 
rejjulsive  taste.  The  opposite  is  the  alkaline  taste,  as  in 
soda,  and  is  rarely  agreeable. 

Thirdly,  the  saline  taste,  as  of  common  salt,  due  princi- 
pally and  therefore  similar  to  that  of  the  base.  The  repul- 
sive taste  of  Epsom  salts,  as  also  the  styptic  taste  of  ink, 
seems  to  be  compounded  of  saline  and  bitter. 

Fourthly,  the  fiery  taste,  as  of  mustard,  pepper,  camphor, 
volatile  oils,  and  alcoholic  liquors.  This,  however,  seems 
not  truly  gustatory,  but  an  effect  upon  the  sense  of  tem[)er- 
ature.  Peppermint  produces  a  marked  sensation  of  cold. 
Acrid  substances  and  astringents,  as  alum,  affect  the  tactile 
rather  than  the  gustatory  nerves,  but  the  effect  is  usually 
spoken  of  as  an  acrid  or  an  astringent  taste. 


2G4  FEELING. 

§  238.  The  sensations  attending  the  exercise  of  the  two 
objective  or  percipient  cephalic  senses  are,  unless  extreme, 
comparatively  slight.  We  refer  to  the  pleasures  or  pains 
that  are  wholly  in  sense,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  intellec- 
tual delights,  and  their  contraries,  of  which  hearing  and 
sight  are  the  most  copious  and  constant  channels.  Music  is 
the  natural  lanonuao-e  of  sentiment.  The  discernment  of 
beauty  by  the  eye  is  its  prerogative.  But  sentiment  in 
general  and  that  of  beauty  in  particular  are  intellectual  cor- 
relatives, and  not  sensations.  We  are  here  considering 
sensations  only.  A  disorder  of  one  of  these  senses,  or  its 
excessive  action,  may  produce  great  misery,  j^et  their  highest 
pleasures  lift  us  but  little  above  indifference.  Still  their 
pleasures  do  not  cloy  so  quickly  as  those  of  smell  and  taste, 
and  hence  we  obtain  from  them  a  larger  amount  of  sensuous 
enjoyment  than  if  they  also  were  limited  by  speedy  satiety. 

Hearing  is  more  sensuous  than  seeing  (§  11).  Sounds 
differing  in  degree  cause  distinguishable  sensations.  Those 
having  volume  or  quantity,  as  distant  thunder,  produce  a 
massive  sensation.  Loud  or  intense  sounds,  as  loud  speak- 
ing, produce  an  acute  sensation.  Increased  intensity  gives 
pain,  as  a  scream.  A  difference  of  pitch  gives  rise  to  a 
difference  of  sensation,  grave  sounds  being  generally  volu- 
minous, acute  sounds  intense.  A  sound  may  be  both  volu- 
minous and  intense,  as  a  steam-whistle.  The  crescendo  and 
diminuendo  have  a  special  sensuous  effect,  the  former  stimu- 
lating, the  latter  depressing,  as  in  the  moaning  of  wind,  the 
swell  of  a  trumpet,  the  cadences  of  an  orator. 

Sounds  differing  in  kind  may  be  distinguished  as  articu- 
late, imisical,  and  noisy.  In  the  first,  the  hissing  of  the  s, 
the  burring  of  the  r,  and  the  hum  of  the  m,  produce  differ- 
ent sensations.  In  musical  tones,  the  different  quality  or 
timbre  produces  distinguishable  sensations,  as  the  same  note 
from  a  flute,  a  violin,  a  trumpet,  and  a  voice.  The  pleasure 
of  several  smooth  tones  in  concord  is  peculiar,  and  the 
highest  known  to  the  ear.     Noises  are  unmusical   discords 


SENSATION.  265 

varying  in  degree.  They  readily  become  painful,  and  are 
characterized  as  harsh,  grating,  piercing,  shrill,  etc.  Since 
we  have  no  ear-lids  to  protect  us,  and  as  sounds  go  great 
distances,  turn  corners,  resound,  and  are  very  penetrating, 
it  comes  that  a  noisy  person  is  one  of  the  most  unavoidable 
a:id  disagreeable  pests  that  afflict  mankind. 

§  239.  The  sensation  of  white  light,  as  diffused  solar 
radiance,  is  distinctly  pleasurable  (§  16).  The  effect  is 
massive  or  acute  according  as  the  light  proceeds  from  a 
surface  or  from  points.  In  cheering  influence,  it  ranks  with 
warmth,  nourishment,  and  repose.  Light  does  not  exhaust 
the  nerves  as  rapidly  as  odor,  savor,  or  even  sound,  and 
hence  its  influence,  though  gentle,  is  by  endurance  power- 
ful. Its  enjoyment,  however,  requires  alternation  and 
limitation.  Exposure  must  be  balanced  b}^  the  repose  of 
darkness.  Almost  instinctively  we  seek  the  cheerful  day  or 
the  well-lighted  room,  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  grateful 
shade,  when  there  is  excess  of  light. 

Color  is  attended  by  special  sensations.  Blue  and  green 
are  commonly  reckoned  as  mild  and  refreshing;  red  as- 
pungent  and  exciting.  Perhaps  this  effect  attributed  to  red 
is  not  absolute,  but  arises  from  relativity;  for,  next  to  white 
and  shades  of  gray,  we  are  most  familiar  with  blue  and  green, 
and  hence  red,  being  comparatively  rare,  is  more  stimulating. 
As  in  sounds,  so  in  colors  there  are  agreeable  harmonies  and 
contrasts,  and  disagreeable  discords. 

The  sensation  due  to  lustre  is  more  pleasant  than  that 
from  color  alone.  Lustrous  bodies,  as  opposed  to  dull, 
reflect  beams  of  light;  as  polished  gems,  metals,  and  woods;, 
ivory,  pearl,  silk;  hair,  teeth,  eyes.  These  owe  their  spe- 
cially pleasing  effect  largely  to  their  lustre.  The  common 
use  of  the  words  dull,  polished,  and  brilliant,  to  mark 
intellectual  character,  and  illustrious  to  replace  renowned^ 
indicates  how  highly  we  prize  this  shining  quality. 


266  FEELING. 


CHAPTER     III. 


EMOTION. 


§  240.  The  discussion  of  emotions  may  be  introduced  by 
a  very  brief  notice  of  certain  states  which  influence  them. 
These  are  the  temperament,  mood,  and  disposition  of  the 
individual. 

Temperament  is  a  term  used  to  designate  a  special  stat- 
ical relation  between  body  and  mind,  certain  fixed  physical 
and  consequent  mental  characteristics.  The  physical  organ- 
ization determines  a  general  cast  of  feeling,  causing  a  ten- 
dency to  see,  as  it  were,  everything  colored  with  some  one 
invariable  hue.  It  determines  to  what  moods  the  man  shall 
be  most  commonly  subject,  and  inclines  him  to  special  kinds 
of  emotions.  The  temperaments  have  long  been  distin- 
guished as  the  choleric,  the  sanguine,  the  melancholic,  and 
the  phlegmatic.  The  corresponding  mental  traits  in  general 
are  irascible,  hopeful,  despondent,  and  impassive.  Certain 
external  physical  marks  usually  distinguish  them,  less  mani- 
fest in  old  age  than  in  youth,  and  in  many  cases  failing 
entirely.  ^ 

1  The  theory  is  ancient.  Galen  has  an  essay  to  show,  "  Quod  animi  mores 
corporis  temperamenta  sequuntur."  In  the  history  of  medicine  it  holds  a 
prominent  place,  but  is  now  little  regarded  by  practitioners.  It  is  still  recog- 
nized in  psychology.  Dr.  Leopold  George  treats  of  it  ably  and  at  length. 
See  Lchrbuch  d.  Psj/rhoJorjie.  p.  125  sq.  (1854).  lie  holds  that  jieoples  are 
distinguished  by  temperaments,  that  the  Spanish  and  Italians  are  choleric, 
the  French  sanguine,  the  English  melancholic,  the  Germans  phlegmatic. 
More  generally,  the  Malayan  race  is  choleric,  the  Caucasian  sanguine,  the 
Mongolian  melancholic,  the  Negro  phlegmatic.  The  four  periods  of  life  also 
correspond  to  the  four  temperaments  ;  childhood  is  sanguine,  youth  melan- 
cholic (sentimental'),  manhood  choleric,  age  phlcgmiitic.  Lotze  treats  the 
f-ubject  in  Mirrorosmus,   ii,  p.  24  sq.     He  would  substitute  sentiuu'ntal  for 


EMOTION.  267 

Mood  or  humor  differs  from  temperament  chiefly  in  being 
less  permanent.  There  is  generally  a  physical  predisposing 
cause  together  with  some  casual  fact.  These  being  tempo- 
rary, the  consequent  mood  is  transient.  He  whose  liver  and 
finances  are  in  disorder  is  likely  for  the  time  to  be  in  an 
ill-humor.  Moods  exist  only  in  that  they  are  a  tendency 
to  a  special  class  of  feelings,  yet  they  have  received  numer- 
ous distinguishing  names,  as  cheerful,  glad,  ga}^  hilarious, 
lively,  etc. ;  opposed  by  sorrowful,  sad,  sulky,  solemn,  dull, 
etc.  Such  contraries  cannot  coexist,  but  neither  may  exist. 
Moods  have  characteristic  expressions  in  the  features,  ges- 
tures, gait,  and  tones  of  the  voice. ^ 

Disposition  has  the  permanence  of  temperament,  but  is 
wholly  mental.  Mind,  though  in  a  very  important  sense  a 
unit,  has  nevertheless,  like  the  body,  a  constitution  which 
varies  in  different  individuals  as  to  the  degree  of  its  powers. 
The  subjective  differences  mark  the  disposition  of  the  man, 
influencing  the  kind  and  current  of  his  feelings,  especially 
of  his  emotions.     Thus  we  say  that   one    is    naturally,    or 

melancholic,  a  temperament  marked  by  "  a  special  receptivity  for  the  feeling 
the  value  of  all  possible  relations,"  but  indifferent  to  the  bare  facts.  Wundt 
distributes  the  temperaments  thus  :  — 

Strong.  Weak. 

Quick Choleric Sanguine. 

iilow Melancholic     ....     Phlegmatic. 

He  says:  "One  should  be  sanguine  amid  the  petty  sufferings  and  joys  of 
daily  life,  melancholy  in  the  serious  hours  of  life's  more  important  events, 
choleric  toward  impressions  that  fetter  one's  profounder  interests,  phlegmatic 
in  the  execution  of  the  resolves  that  have  been  reached."  —  P/ii/s.  Psych.,  ii, 
p.  345  sq. 

1  Anciently  moods  or  humors  were  supposed  to  depend  on  the  fluids  of  the 
body,  hence  humor,  from  Juimere,  to  be  moist.  Their  transient  and  variable 
character  is  indicated  in  the  Ger.  Laune,  from  Lat.  luna,  the  moon,  upon 
whose  changes  the  moods,  perhaps  because  they  are  changeable,  were  fancied 
to  depend.  Cf.  Eng.  lunacij.  Cheerfulness  and  melancholy,  U Allegro  and 
n  Penseroso,  may  be  taken  as  generically  representative  of  the  opposed 
classes.  So  also  the  temperaments  may  be  reduced  to  two,  the  sanguineous 
and  the  melancholic  ;  the  phlegmatic  being  a  mode  of  the  former,  and  the 
choleric  a  mode  of  the  latter. 


268  FEELING. 

perhaps  by  culture,  of  a  cheerful,  proud,  meek,  modesty 
timid,  gloomy,  morose,  suspicious,  liberal,  or  sociable  dispo- 
sition. 

§  241.  As  sensations  are  feelings  correlative  to  perception, 
so  emotions  and  sentiments  are  correlative  to  intellect. 
The  specific  difference  between  emotion  and  sentiment  is 
rationality.  Sentiment  is  rational;  emotion  is  non-rational. 
This  non-rational  or  irrational  character  of  emotion  is  purely 
negative,  and  means,  not  that  it  violates,  but  that  it  is  not 
determined  by  reason.  No  clear  logical  process  is  antece- 
dent, but  the  feeling  arises  apparently  on  the  bare  emjjirical 
presentation  or  representation  of  some  fitting  object.  The 
irrational  brute  is  deemed  capable  of  emotions,  such  as 
surprise  or  fear,  but  not  of  sentiments,  such  as  regret  or 
reverence, 

A  positive  mark  of  emotion  is  its  inhibiting  influence  on 
the  cognitive  and  other  faculties,  and  so  on  reasonable  con- 
duct. Emotions,  even  when  moderate,  confuse  thoughts,  so 
that  to  be  clear  we  must  be  calm.  At  their  height,  they 
attain  overwhelming  force,  paralyzing  other  energies,  in 
accord  with  the  law  of  inverse  ratio.  Wonder  arrests  volun- 
tary activity,  and  astounds;  sorrow  dulls,  abating  interest 
in  things  around;  joy  transports;  fear  ti-ansfixes,  putting  a 
restraint  upon  both  intelligence  and  action.  Imagination 
in  certain  cases  is  highly  stimulated  by  emotion,  but  its 
voluntary  exercise  being  inhibited,  the  images  are  mere 
phantasms.  Fear  especially  has  this  effect,  for  even  a  slight 
alarm  may  conjure  up  phantoms  that  terrify. 

The  diffusive  effects  of  emotions  are  greater  in  variety  and 
intensity  than  those  of  any  other  class  of  feelings  (§  230). 
More  than  any  other  they  tend  to  go  out  naturally,  that  is, 
instinctively,  into  forms  of  energetic  ex])ression.  In  them 
we  are  greatly  moved,  lience  the  word  emotion.  Facial 
expression,  voice,  gesticulation,  are  called  into  i)lay,  and 
their  language,  very  hard  to  repress,  is  so  plain  as  to  be  read 


EMOTION.  269 

by  any  observer.  Every  one  knows  the  start  of  surprise, 
the  gaping  eyes  and  mouth  of  stupid  wonder,  the  shout  of 
joy,  the  groaning  or  sobbing  of  grief  and  sorrow,  the  smiles 
of  ghidness,  the  sighs  of  sadness,  the  scream  of  terror,  the 
shrinking  of  bashfuhiess,  the  burst  of  tears  whether  of  joy  or 
of  sorrow  we  cannot  always  tell.  The  organic  effects  are 
powerful.  The  pale  cheek  of  fear,  and  the  flushed  face  of 
joy,  show  a  notable  effect  on  the  heart  beats.  Hysterics, 
panting,  paralysis,  and  even  instant  death  are  not  infre- 
quently the  effects  of  emotion. 

§  242.  There  are  several  distinct  groups  of  emotions 
whose  members  differ  chiefly  in  degree.  Some  of  these  will 
now  be  mentioned  by  way  of  illustration.  It  should  be 
observed  that  many  others  exist,  many  that  have  received  no 
names,  and  that  complex  states,  as  hope,  are  often  spoken  of 
as  emotions  because  of  an  emotional  element. 

Wonder  is  typical  of  a  group  which,  in  the  order  of 
degree,  runs  about  thus:  surprise,  admiration,  wonder, 
amazement,  astonishment.  Surprise,  the  least  intense  of 
these,  attends  a  sudden  arrest  of  attention.  By  it  we  are 
awakened,  startled,  stirred.  To  admire,  in  its  original 
sense,  is  to  wonder  at.^  But  wonder  is  a  stronger  emotion. 
In  it  we  are  transfixed  and  confounded. 

These  emotions  are  almost  indifferent  to  pleasure  and  pain, 
especially  those  in  the  lower  degrees.  True,  we  speak  of 
a  pleasant  or  a  painful  surprise;  but  the  pleasure  or  pain 
seems  to  be  not  in  the  surprise,  but  in  other  feelings  excited 
by  the  surprising  object.  We  are  surprised  and  delighted, 
or  are  surprised  and  grieved. 

Wonder  has  been  called  the  daughter  of  ignorance  ;  still 
she   is  the    mother  of   knowledge.       "  Admiratio  est  semen 

1  From  ad  and  mirnri ;  whence  also  miracle.  '•  Wonder  not,  nor  admire 
not  in  thy  mind."  —  Twelfth  Night,  A.  3,  sc.  4.     Horace  says  :  — 

'•  Nil  admirari  prope  res  est,  Nurnici, 
Solaque,  qua?  possit  facere  et  servare  beatiim."  —  Epis.,  lib.  1,  6. 


270  FEELING. 

sapientite,"  says  Bacon.  What  is  a  wonder,  a  mystery,  a- 
miracle?^  An  isolated,  unexplained  fact.  It  excites  a  rest- 
less seeking  to  refer  it  to  some  cause  or  class.  This  done, 
the  wonder  ceases,  and  we  rest. 

§  243.  Fear  is  generic  of  a  series  which  ma}^  be  stated 
tluis  :  apprehension,  alarm,  fear,  flight,  terror.  The  emotion 
is  ^jrospective,  arising  from  the  representation  of  evil  to 
come.  It  is,  therefore,  especially  dependent  on  imagination, 
which  alone  depicts  the  future  ;  and  hence,  persons  of  lively 
and  unrestrained  imagination  are  most  liable  to  fears. 

The  cause  of  fear  is  generall}^  involved  in  uncertainty  or 
ignorance.  Before  any  great  but  evident,  certain,  and  well- 
understood  evil,  the  mind  stands  in  dread,  which  is  thus  a 
sentiment  rather  than  an  emotion.  Brutes  no  doubt  feel  fear 
in  all  its  degrees,  but  not  dread.  P^ear  arises  in  prospect  of 
evil  unknown  in  character  and  amount.  Thus  fear,  as  Avell 
as  wonder,  is  the  offspring  of  ignorance  ;  but  wonder  gives 
birth  to  science,  and  science  strangles  fear.  Knowledge  is 
not  only  power,  it  is  composure.  A  phenomenon,  as  a  solar 
eclipse,  intelligently  understood,  may  still  inspire  awe,  but 
no  longer  terror.  One  of  the  benefits  of  modern  science  is 
the  subduing  of  unreasonable  fears.^ 

1  Ger.  Wunder,  a  miracle,  a  prodigy,  a  marvel.  So  in  the  last  verse  of  the 
scene  in  Auerbach's  cellar  in  Faust :  — 

"  Nun  sag'  mir  eins,  man  soil  kcin  Wuuder  glauben !  " 

"With  like  meaning  the  third  stanza  of  Vemis  and  Adonis  begins :  — 

"  Vouchsafe,  Ihou  wonder,  to  alight  thy  steed." 

2  On  the  other  hand,  the  ignorant  are  delivered  from  many  fears  to  which 
the  enlightened  are  reasonably  subject.     Belarius  says  of  Cloten  :  — 

"  Being  Bcarce  made  up, 
I  mean,  to  man,  lie  had  not  appieliension 
Of  roaring  terrors;   for  th'  effect  of  judgment 
Is  oft  the  cause  of  fear."  —  Cyiubiliiw,  A.  4,  sc.  2. 

"  Real  valor,"  says  Scott,  "  consists  not  in  being  insensible  to  danger,  but 
m  being  prompt  to  confiMut  and  i-cpel  it." — Pcrrril  <>/  l/ic  Piak,  vol.  2, 
p.  172,  Black's  ed.     The  true  opposite  of  courage,  then,  is  not  fear.     Again, 


EMOTION.  271 

In  all  its  degrees  this  emotion  is  painful.  The  pain  is  not 
only  unlike,  but  may  be  more  severe  than  physical  pain.  The 
cruelty  of  scaring  a  child  is  greater  than  that  of  striking  it, 
and  the  effect  is  likely  to  be  more  permanent.  Yet  excep- 
tions must  be  allowed.  The  agreeable  fascination  of  super- 
stitious fear  when  moderate,  as  from  a  ghost  story,  is  well 
known ;  and  the  fictitious  terrors  of  the  drama  are  a  volup- 
tuous excitement.^ 

The  organic  influence  of  fear  is  chiefly  a  depression  or 
prostration  of  muscular  energy,  except  in  the  one  form  of 
running  away  from  danger.  Extreme  terror  may  so  paralyze 
as  to  make  even  this  impossible.  Involuntary  expressions  are 
starting,  trembling,  staring,  huskiness,  or  perhaps  speechless- 
ness. The  mouth  and  lips  become  dry  and  parched,  the  flow 
of  saliva  being  checked.^  T'le  hair  seems  to  stand  on  end, 
and  sometimes  turns  white.^  The  blood  rushes  to  the  heart, 
leaving  the  extremities  pale.  We  are  appalled,  and  dismayed 
or  weakened.  Cold  sweat,  convulsions,  insanity,  and  death 
are  not  unusual  effects  of  fright. 

the  antithesis  of  hope  is  not  fear,  but  despondency,  whose  highest  degree  is 
despair.     The  negative  of  fear  is  simply  the  feeling  of  security. 

Godly  fear,  which  is  in  contrast  with  servile  fear,  is  a  composite  state,  and 
entirely  compatible  with  the  perfect  l6ve  that  casteth  out  fear.  See  1  John 
4  :  18. 

1  See  Akenside's  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination,  bk.  i,  255  sq.,  ending:  — 

"  Each  tiembliug  heart  with  grateful  terrors  quelled." 

The  solemn  Eleusinian  mysteries  were  intended,  says  Aristotle,  to  purify 
the  heart  by  pity  and  terror. 

2  In  India  a  suspected  criminal  is  made  to  hold  a  mouthful  of  rice,  and 
after  a  little,  to  drop  it  out.  If  found  dry,  he  is  judged  guilty,  and  vice  versa. 
It  is  needless  to  remark  that  this  "Ordeal  of  the  morsel  of  rice"  may  be  a 
fair  test  of  fear,  but  not  of  guilt. 

^  That  hair  turns  white  under  the  influence  of  fear  is  a  well-established 
fact.  That  it  seems  to  stand  on  end  is  unquestionable  ;  in  the  bristling  of 
animals  it  actually  does  so.     The  notion  is  very  ancient ;  e.g. :  — 

"Obstupui,  steteruntque  comae,  et  vox  faucibus  haesit."  —  ^neid,  bk.  ii,  774. 

But  see  e.specially  Job  4  :  15.      Horror,  from   Lat.   horrere,  to  bristle  ;   cf. 
horripilation. 


272  FEELING. 

§  244.  Gladness,  joy,  bliss,  rapture,  contrast  with  sadness, 
sorrow,  grief,  woe.  The  former  are  pleasurable  emotions,  the 
latter  are  usually,  but  not  necessarily,  painful ;  for,  says 
Plin}' :  "  Est  quffidam  etiam  dolendi  voluptas." 

Joy  arises  generally  on  the  fulfilment  of  ardent  wishes, 
especially  if  the  gratification  be  sudden  and  the  manner  unex- 
pected. Sorrow  arises  generally  on  the  disappointment  of 
hope,  or  the  experience  of  loss.  Hence  these  emotions  bear  a 
sjDccial  relation  to  the  desires.  They  are  most  familiar  to  us 
in  connection  with  affectionate  desire,  especially  in  the  form 
of  personal  love.  We  are  glad  on  meeting  a  friend,  we 
rejoice  at  the  restoration  of  a  lost  brother,  and  the  highest 
bliss  of  heaven  is  represented  as  the  rapture  of  perfect  love. 
Tlie  pains  have  like  gradation,  from  the  gentle  longings  of  a 
brief  absence,  to  the  overwhelming  sorrow  of  a  new-made 
Qfrave.^ 

The  word  rapture,  indicating  the  highest  joy,  well  expresses 
the  inhibiting  effect  of  this  emotion,  in  which  we  are,  as  it 
were,  seized  upon  and  carried  away  even  from  one's  self. 
Transport  and  ecstasy,  expressing  the  extremes  of  both  joy 
and  sorrow,  have  a  similar  significance. 

Joy  quickens  the  blood,  and  often  excites  violent,  and 
sometimes  fatal,  palpitations  of  the  heart.  The  ej^es  are 
animated  and  bright,  and  sometimes  overflow  with  tears 
while  the  mouth  is  wreathed  with  smiles.  To  these  expres- 
sions are  added  exclamations,  clapping  of  hands,  and  other 
lively  gestures,  which,  when  not  restrained  by  a  sense  of 
decorum,   extend  to  leaping  and  dancing,  with  shouts  and 

1  "  There  is  something  in  melancholy  feelings,"  says  Scott,  "  more  natural 
to  an  imperfect  and  suffering  state  than  in  those  of  gaiety,  and  when  they 
are  brought  into  collision,  the  former  seldom  fail  to  triumph.  If  a  funeral 
train  and  a  wedding  procession  were  to  meet  unexpectedly,  it  will  readily  be 
allowed  that  the  mirtli  of  the  last  would  be  speedily  merged  in  the  gloom  of 
the  other."  —  PercrU  of  the  Pt'dk,  ch.  4.  Cf.  Irving's  true  and  beautiful 
analysis  in  the  sketch,  "Tiie  Widow  and  her  Son."  beginning:  "What  are 
the  distresses  of  the  rich!"  and  in  '•  IJmal  Fiuifrals,"  beginning:  "The 
sorrow  for  the  dead  is  the  only  sorrow  fnuu  which  we  refuse  to  be  divorced." 


EMOTION.  273 

laughter.  In  the  burst  of  grief  there  is  violent  agitation  of 
the  whole  frame,  convulsive  movements  of  the  features,  beat- 
ing the  breast,  tearing  the  hair,  rending  the  garments,  wail- 
ing, lamentation,  sobs,  sighs,  and  floods  of  tears. ^  Then 
follow  lassitude,  debility,  dejection  of  the  countenance,  and 
languor  in  the  eyes.  Circulation  is  enfeebled,  the  face  pale, 
the  muscles  flaccid,  and  hence  the  head  hangs,  the  eyelids 
droop,  and  the  features  lengthen. 

§  245.  The  emotion  that  accompanies  love  in  its  various 
forms  has  no  distinctive  name.  Love  strictly  taken  is  an 
affection,  a  desire,  but  is  attended  by  both  emotions  and 
sentiments  peculiar  to  it.  These,  together  with  the  affection, 
constitute  the  strongest,  the  most  influential,  and  most  uni- 
versal passion  of  human  nature.  We  distinguish  fraternal, 
filial,  paternal,  maternal,  conjugal,  and  sexual  love,  and  other 
kinds,  but  the  attendant  emotions  are  so  similar  that  they 
may  be  accounted  one. 

The  emotion,  though  often  rising  to  a  great  height,  is 
usually  gentle,  tender,  and  pleasing,  yet  strong,  even  in  its 
mildest  form.  Its  opposite  is  the  painful  emotion  attending 
hate.  Jealousy  is  a  complex  passionate  state,  involving, 
among  other  elements,  both  these  opposites.  The  inhibiting 
influence  of  the  emotion  on  the  intellect  is  well  expressed  by 
the  old  myth  that  Love  is  blind. 

The  chief  instinctive  expressions  of  love  are  reducible  to 
gentle  touch.  As  anger  gives  a  blow,  love  offers  or  craves 
a  caress.  Fondling  or  caressing  may  take  the  form  of  the 
embrace,  the  kiss,  or  the  hand-stroke,  which  under  restraint 

1  "  In  joyful  moods  the  features  are  dilated  ;  the  voice  is  full  and  strong ; 
the  gesticulation  is  abundant ;  the  very  thoughts  are  richer.  In  the  gambols 
of  the  young,  we  see  to  advantage  the  coupling  of  the  two  facts,  mental 
delight  and  bodily  energy.  Introduce  some  acute  misery  into  the  mind  at 
that  moment,  and  all  is  collapse,  as  if  one  had  struck  a  blow  at  the  heart."  — 
Bain,  Senses  and  Intellect,  p.  286.  The  gay  dance  is  a  conventional  mode 
of  expressing  gladness  ;  the  grave  march  of  a  funeral  train  is  a  conventional 
expression  of  sadness. 


274  FEELING. 

are  reduced  to  the  hand-shake,  linking  of  arms,  and  the  like, 
all  these  being  forms  of  touch.^ 

§  246.  Sj^mpathy  is  not  itself  an  emotion,  but  the  experi- 
ence of  feelings,  chiefly  emotions,  similar  in  kind  to  those 
expressed  by  or  known  to  exist  in  another  person.  It  is  a 
mental  contagion,  a  spontaneous,  unreflecting,  irrational  im- 
pulse, one  that  sets  aside  our  own  personality,  and  moves  us 
to  partake  of  the  pleasure  or  pain,  the  happiness  or  misery, 
of  others.  The  word  is  Greek.  The  corresponding  Latin 
word  is  compassion,  but  this  is  limited  in  usage  to  painful 
states,  and  is  more  nearly  synonymous  with  commiseration  and 
condolence.  Compassion  partakes  of  the  nature  of  senti- 
ment, and  is  a  condescending  term,  indicating  the  feeling  of 
a  superior  toward  an  inferior.^ 

1  The  origin  of  this  emotion  has  been  sought  for  in  sympathy.  Doubtless 
the  two  react  upon  and  strengthen  one  anotlier,  but  they  seem  to  be  distinct 
and  equally  original.  "  In  considering  the  genesis  of  the  tender  emotion,  in 
any  or  in  all  of  its  modes,  I  am  inclined,"  says  Bain,  "to  put  great  stress 
upon  the  sensation  of  animal  contact,  or  the  pleasure  of  the  embrace. 
Touch  is  the  fundamental  and  generic  sense,  the  first-born  of  sensibility  [see 
§  23,  note  3].  Even  after  the  remaining  senses  are  differentiated,  this  primary 
sense  continues  to  be  a  leading  susceptibility  of  the  mind.  The  combined 
jiower  of  soft  contact  and  warmth  amounts  to  a  considerable  pitch  of  massive 
pleasure  ;  while  there  may  be  subtile  intluences  not  reducible  to  these  two 
heads,  such  as  we  term,  from  not  knowing  anything  about  them,  magnetic  or 
electric.  The  strong  fact  that  cannot  be  explained  away  is  that  under  tender 
feeling  there  is  a  craving  for  the  embrace.  As  anger  is  consummated  by 
knocking  some  one  down,  so  love  is  completed  and  satisfied  with  an  embrace. 
Touch  is  both  the  alpha  and  the  omega  of  affection.  The  naive  remark  of  a 
child,  quoted  by  Darwin,  is  true  to  nature.  To  the  question  :  '  What  is 
meant  by  being  in  good  spirits?  '  the  answer  was:  '  It  is  laughing  and  talk- 
ing and  kissing.'  "  —  Emotion^  and  Will,  p.  126  sq. 

2  Anciently  the  brain  was  supposed  to  be  the  seat  of  intellect,  the  heart  of 
affection  and  volition,  the  spleen  of  latent-  si)ite  and  melancholy,  the  liver 
of  valor  and  choler  (x"'^'?,  bile),  and  the  bowels  {to.  airXd'yxva.)  of  compas- 
sion. "And  Jesus,  moved  with  compassion  ((rirXa7x>"0'^«is),  put  forth  his 
hand  and  touched  him."  — Mark  1:41.  See  also  2  Cor.  G  :  12,  Phil.  1:8, 
and  Luke  1:78,  where  (xtrXdyx^^  is  rendered  " tender  mercy."  Cf.  "Thou 
thing  of  no  bowels." —  'J'roil.,  A.  2,  so.  1  ;  cf.  so.  2,  11.  Pity  is  still  more 
strictly  a  sentiment.     See  §  262. 


EMOTION.  275 

Sympathy  awakens  most  strongly  towards  those  we  love, 
less  strongly  toward  strangers,  and  still  less  toward  enemies. 
The  joys  or  sorrows  of  those  to  whom  we  are  most  closely 
akin,  move  us  most  deeply,  and  in  proportion  as  the  points 
of  community  diminish,  the  community  of  opinions,  of  situa- 
tions, of  fortunes,  in  like  proportion  diminish  our  sympathies. ^ 
The  opposite  of  sympathy  is  antipathy,  an  emotion  of  contra- 
riety, involving  disgust  and  repugnance.  It  is  the  positive 
emotion  we  feel  against  foreigners,  especially  those  of  other 
and  inferior  races,  and  against  reptiles.  The  pure  negative 
of  sympathy  is  indifference. 

Sympathy  is  a  blessing  that  gives  and  takes.  Even  the 
laws  of  common  decorum  require  us  to  assume  at  least  the 
appearance  of  sadness  or  of  gladness,  to  smile  at  meeting,  to 
sigh  at  parting,  to  be  sorrowful  in  the  house  of  mourning, 
and  joj'ful  in  the  house  of  feasting.  To  know  that  another 
shares  our  emotions  has  an  especial  charm,  whether  it  be  for 
encouragement  in  arduous  struggle,  or  for  endurance  in 
affliction.^  Thus  sympathy  lightens  distress,  heightens  de- 
light, and  prolongs  pleasurable  thrills.'^ 

1  As  we  like  those  to  whom  we  are  like,  and  dislike  those  to  whom  we 
are  unlike,  so  kind  induces  a  fellow  feeling  that  makes  us  wondrous  kind. 
Cf.  Hamlet's  first  speech:  "A  little  more  than  kin,  and  less  than  kind." 
Sympathy  with  kind  has  given  us  the  beautiful  words  kindness  and  humanity. 
"Homo  sum,  humani  nihil  a  me  alienmn  puto." — Terence,  Heaiit.  Tim., 
A.  1,  sc.  1. 

Poetically,  sympathy  extends  to  brutes,  and  even  to  inanimate  nature. 

"  Can  man  forbear  to  join  the  general  smile 
Of  Nature?    The  love  of  Nature  works 
And  warm's  the  bosom,  till  at  last  sublimed 
To  rapture,  and  enthusiastic  heat, 
We  feel  the  present  Deity,  and  taste 
The  joy  of  God,  and  see  a  happy  world." 

—  Thompson   The  Seasons,  v,  869  sq. 

2  Madame  de  Sevigne  dit  a  sa  fille  malade  :  '•  J'ai  mal  a  votre  portrine." 
Dumas  fils  dit:  "On  souffre  moins  en  souffrant  dans  deux  coeurs."  In 
diffusing  gladness,  we  give  and  gain  ;  in  sharing  sadness  we  lessen  pain. 
In  short,  it  is  the  wedding-ring  motto:  "Sorrows  I  divide,  joys  I  double." 
' '  .Jede  qual  wird  leichter,  wenn  man  sie  ausprechen  kann  vor  dem  Freunde 
der  mit  uns  f  iihlt. ' ' 

3  Aristotle  quaintly  says  :   "  It  is  not  easy  to  maintain  a  glow  of  mind  by 


276  FEELING. 

The  influence  of  numbers  is  remarkable.  The  actor  or 
orator  is  inspired  by  a  crowded  house.  Tumultuous  applause 
is  infectious,  and  arouses  an  enthusiasm  impossible  in  a  thin 
assembly.  The  devotion  of  a  large  body  of  worshippers  is 
easily  worked  up  by  sympathy  into  fanaticism.  The  esprit 
de  corps  of  a  regiment,  of  a  political  party,  of  a  nation  or 
race,  tells  with  accumulated  force.  Panic  is  sympathetic 
fear.  It  is  wholly  irrational,  and  is  greatly  enhanced  by 
numbers.  A  herd  of  cattle,  a  mass  of  people,  are  equally 
liable  to  be  panic-stricken.  The  contagion  spreads  with 
wonderful  rapidity,  and  often  leads  to  senseless  and  needless 
disaster. 

Since  sympathy  is  an  experience  of  a  similar  feeling,  its 
expression  is  the  expression  of  that  feeling.  We  weep  with 
those  that  weep,  and  we  follow  even  the  pathos  of  the  voice 
of  suffering  when  we  take  up  the  lament.^  Laughter  is 
catching,  and  when  one  of  a  company  yawns,  the  rest  are 
infected.  We  shrink  when  we  see  the  incision  of  the  sur- 
geon's knife ;  and  a  mob,  looking  on  a  rope-dancer,  will 
throw  their  bodies  into  contortions,  and  take  the  posture 
requisite  to  save  the  fall. 

one's  self,  whereas  in  company  with  some  one  else,  and  in  relation  to  others, 
this  is  easier."  —  Mc.  Eth.,  bk.  9,  t)5. 

In  order  to  sympathize,  there  must  have  been  a  prior  experience  of  similar 
feelings.  The  range  of  experience  fixes  the  range  of  possible  sympathies. 
Sympathy  cannot  be  wider,  but  may  be  narrower  than  experience.  No  man 
can  have  sympathy,  proper,  for  the  pains  of  childbirth,  or  the  cares  of 
maternity.  The  timid  man  cannot  comprehend  the  composure  of  the  cour- 
ageous in  face  of  peril.  The  cold  man  cannot  understand  the  woes  of  an 
ardent  lover.  The  impulsive  man  cannot  sympathize  with  cautious  delibera- 
tion. But  one  may  harden  his  heart,  and  contemplate  all  the  ills  that  llesh 
is  heir  to,  without  a  responsive  throb. 

"  He  jests  at  scars,  that  never  felt  a  wound."  —  /?.  and  J.,  A.  2,  sc.  1. 

1  "  Ut  ridentibus  arrident,  ita  flentibus  afflent 
Iluniaiii  vultus.     Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est 
I'rimum  ipsi  tibi ;  tunc  tua  me  infortunia  la>dont." 

—  Horace,  ad  Pisones,  101  sq. 


SENTIMENT.  277 


CHAPTER   IV. 


SENTIMENT. 


§  247.  The  mark  of  sentiment  is  rationality ;  that  is  to 
say,  it  is  correlative  to  an  intellectual  intuition,  or  to  the 
result  of  a  logical  process  involving  pure  ideas.  Indignation, 
for  example,  relates  to  the  idea  of  personal  worth ;  and  a 
claim  to  personality  can  be  made  only  by  a  rational  being. 
A  being  destitute  of  pure  reason  is  incapable  of  sentiment. 
In  the  passions  of  a  raging  lion  there  is  no  indignation,  but 
only  such  emotions  as  attend  anger.  It  is  impossible  to 
insult  a  brute,  but  a  man  may  easily  be  wounded  in  his 
self-esteem.     Sentiment  is  the  echo  of  reason. ^ 

We  cannot  always  clearly  distinguish  sentiment  from  emo- 
tion, for  the  two  often  coexist  and  intermingle ;  and  more- 
over, sentiment  itself,  when  intense,  becomes  emotional  in 
character,  at  least  so  far  as  to  produce  an  inhibiting  effect 
on  other  faculties.  But  in  extreme  cases,  as  between  the 
burst  of  sympathetic  sorrow  and  the  calm  though  strong 
sentiment  of  pity,  the  distinction  is  clear. 

A  satisfactory  classification  of  sentiments  has  hardly  been 
attained.  For  present  treatment  we  divide  them  into  the 
sensuous  and  the  pure,  and  subdivide  the  pure  into  the  intel- 
lectual and  the  moral. 

§  248.  The  sensuous  sentiments  are  those  experienced  in 
the  contemplation  of  objects  of  sense,  presented  or  repre- 
sented.    The  chiefest  is  the  sentiment  of  beauty. 

1  "  Pascal  definissait  les  passions  'des  precipitations  de  pens6es.'  M. 
Wundt  definerait  voluntiers  les  sentiments  des  precipitations  de  raisonne- 
ments,:' —  Revue  de  D.  J/.,  Oct.  15,  '83,  p.  301. 


278  FEELING. 

We  should  clearly  distinguish  the  sentiment  of  beauty, 
and  its  objective  cause  or  that  in  an  object  which  makes  it 
beautiful.  An  object  having  this  quality  is  approved  by  the 
aesthetic  judgment,  or  judgment  of  taste ;  and  correlative  to 
this  judgment  is  the  aesthetic  feeling,  or  sentiment  of  beauty. 
The  cause  or  occasion  is  the  objective  fact  of  beauty ;  the 
effect  is  the  subjective  feeling  of  beauty ;  the  two  mediated 
by  the  judgment  of  taste. 

Now,  with  that  character  in  objects  which  renders  them 
beautiful,  we  have  strictly  nothing  to  do.  The  matter  belongs 
to  the  separate  and  somewhat  obscure  science  of  aesthetics. 
Nor  are  we  here  concerned  with  the  judgment  of  taste,  as  to 
whether  it  be  a  pure  intuition  or  a  deduction  from  intuition, 
or  whether  it  be  a  consequence  of  experience  and  associa- 
tion, or  what  may  be  the  laws  which  should  regulate  its 
decisions.  Though  these  be  psychological  questions,  they  do 
not  belong  to  the  present  topic.  We  are  to  consider  only 
the  feeling,  the  sentiment. 

It  is  highly  and  always  pleasing.  Perhaps  none  of  our 
sentiments,  unless  certain  moral  sentiments  be  exceptions, 
are  so  thoroughly  delightful  and  have  so  little  alloy.  A 
beautiful  object  excites  the  intellectual  faculties  to  a  free 
and  full  activity,  Avhose  reflex,  therefore,  gives  pleasure. 
But  many  other  objects  do  this,  and  we  should  not  call 
every  one  that  gives  pleasure  beautiful.  Yet  this  is  a  com- 
mon habit  both  in  speech  and  writing.  Therefore  let  us 
note  some  limitations. 

We  hear  of  physical  beauty  and  of  intellectual  beauty  and 
of  moral  beauty ;  and  indeed  Avriters  on  testhetics  usually 
pursue  the  subject  under  these  three  heads.  Many  intel- 
lectual and  moral  sentiments  are  highly  pleasing,  and  are 
perhaps  in  other  respects  similar  to  the  sentiment  of  beauty, 
and  hence  the  word  is  loosely  applied  to  them.  But  strictly 
and  properly  tlie  true  sentiment  of  beauty  arises  only  on  the 
contemplation  of  certain  ol)jects  of  sense,  presented  or  repre- 
sented.    All  true  beauty  is  pln'sical  beauty,  and  it  is  exclu- 


SENTIMENT.  279 

sively  a  sensuous  sentiment.  Its  objects  are  objects  eitber 
in  nature  or  art,  or  in  imagination.  In  tbese  intellect  dis- 
cerns the  quality  of  beauty,  and  thereupon  arises  the  correla- 
tive sentiment. 

Beauty,  says  Plato,  is  the  shining  of  the  ideal  through  the 
sensible.  It  is  a  union  of  the  intellectual  with  the  sensual, 
of  the  o-eneral  with  the  individual.  It  is  the  pure  idea  mani- 
fest  in  material  things,  or,  as  Jouffroy  says,  it  is  the  invisible 
expressed  by  the  visible.  These  definitions  recognize  that  a 
sensuous  element  is  an  essential  condition  of  the  beautiful. 
By  the  union  of  the  intellectual  with  the  sensual  is  meant 
the  intellectual  manifest  in  sensuous  forms ;  that  is  to  say, 
by  shape,  movement,  color,  or  sound.  Take  from  the  Venus 
of  Milo  the  matter,  that  is,  the  marble,  with  the  shape  or 
figure,  that  is,  the  statue  itself,  and  preserve  only  the  pure 
idea  —  its  beauty  has  disappeared  altogether. 

Though  sensuous  in  that  it  is  excited  only  by  objects  of 
sense,  beauty  is  not  a  sensation.  In  the  absence  of  a  real 
object  of  sense,  and  therefore  of  sensation,  memory  recalls,  or 
imagination  creates,  beautiful  objects ;  and  since  ideal  objects 
are  faultless,  and  free  from  the  grossness  of  reality,  the  senti- 
ment, when  excited  by  ideal  objects,  excels  in  pl^rit3^  delicacy, 
and  refinement.  Hence  the  especial  charm  of  poetry  and 
fiction,  and  a  superiority  of  literary  over  other  fine  arts.  Nor 
is  -beauty  an  emotion.  The  irrational  brute  is  believed  to  be 
capable  of  both  sensation  and  emotion,  but  not  of  the  feeling 
of  beauty,  it  being  experienced  only  by  rational  beings.  Nor 
is  it  a  desire,  for  beauty  pleases  without  interest  in  the 
object. 1 

Though  not  a  sensation,  the  ajsthetic  feeling,  being  sensu- 
ous, is  directly  conditioned  on  sense-perception.     But  none 

1  See  Kant's  Critique  of  Judgment.  Beauty  tends  strongly  to  excite  desire, 
especially  the  desire  of  possession.  As  it  is  impossible  to  attempt  a  thing 
unless  we  beUeve  it  practicable  (§  202),  so  is  it  impossible  to  desire  a 
thing  unless  we  believe  it  attainable  (§  255).  A  sunset  sky  is  often  very 
beautiful,  but  we  have  no  interest  in  it,  i.e.  we  do  not  desire  it. 


280  FEELING. 

of  the  organic  senses,  or  smell,  or  taste,  or  touch,  or  muscular 
sense,  can  give  rise  to  it.^  This  is  the  more  worthy  of  note 
since  the  aesthetic  feeling  and  judgment  borrow  the  name  of 
the  sense  of  taste,  and  in  reference  to  beauty,  we  speak  of  the 
pleasures  and  decisions  of  taste .^  Hearing  and  sight  alone 
are  sesthetic  senses ;  that  is  to  say,  audible  or  visible  objects 
only,  either  present  to  sense,  or  represented  by  memory  or 
imagination,  can  become  the  basis  of  sesthetic  sentiment,  give 
rise  to  it,  and  truly  combine  with  it. 

§  249.  The  sentiment  of  the  sublime,  of  the  picturesque, 
and  of  the  ludicrous  are  akin  to,  yet  differ  from,  that  of 
beauty.  The  beautiful  soothes,  the  sublime  agitates ;  the 
beautiful  attracts  without  repelling,  the  sublime  at  once  does 
both ;  the  beautiful  affords  a  feeling  of  unmingled  pleasure 
in  the  full  and  unimpeded  activity  of  our  cognitive  powers, 
whereas  the  feeling  of  sublimity  is  a  mingled  one  of  pleasure 
and  pain  —  of  pleasure  in  the  consciousness  of  strong  energy, 
of  pain  in  the  consciousness  that  this  energy  is  vain.  It  is 
highly  probable  that  the  essence  of  the  sublime  is  the  idea  of 
infinity.  The  indefinitely  great,  transcending  our  grasp  of 
thought,  suggests,  or  for  consciousness  is  equivalent,  to  infin- 
ity and  so  becomes  sublime.^ 

1  An  exception  should  perhaps  be  taken  in  favor  of  the  congenitally  bhnd, 
who  probably  appreciate  beauty  of  figure  given  in  handling. 

2  Fr.  gout^  from  Lat.  gustare,  whence  also  'disgust.'  Ger.  Schmack,  a 
taste,  hence  a  smack,  a  kiss.  Also  Geschmack,  whence  Geschmackslehre, 
aesthetics,  or  the  theory  of  taste.  The  Grk.  ai'ffdijais  means,  primarily,  per- 
ception by  touch. 

James  Russell  Lowell  said  very  neatly  :  ' '  Good  taste  is  the  conscience  of 
the  mind,  and  conscience  is  the  good  taste  of  the  soul." 

3  "Baffled  in  an  attempt  to  reduce  an  object,  such  as  the  extent  of  the 
starry  heavens,  their  millennial  cycles,  or  the  omniiiotence  that  projected 
them,  within  tlie  limits  of  the  faculties  by  wliicli  it  must  be  comprehended, 
the  mind  at  once  desists  from  the  ineffectual  effort,  and  conceives  the  object 
not  by  a  positive,  but  by  a  negative  notion  ;  it  conceives  it  as  inconceivable, 
and  falls  back  into  repose,  which  is  felt  as  pleasing  by  contrast  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  a  forced  and  impeded  energy."  —  Hamilton,  Meta.,  p.  G29. 

"  Ml'  qii.T(Iam  divina  voliiptas 
Percipit,  atque  honor."  —  Lucketius,  De  Re.  Nat.,  iii,  28. 


SENTIMENT.  281 

Of  the  pleasing  sentiments  of  the  picturesque  and  the  ludi- 
crous it  is  sufficient  to  observe  that  as  in  beauty  and  sublimity 
there  is  an  ascent  of  the  object  above  a  median  level,  so  in 
the  picturesque  and  the  ludicrous  there  is  a  descent  below 
this  plane  of  indifference.^  A  corresponding  contrast  exists 
between  the  feelings,  yet  they  pass  readily  and  quickly  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest  extreme.  The  painful  contrary  of 
the  sentiment  of  beauty  is  disgust  at  ugliness  or  deformity ; 
but  the  sentiment  of  the  ludicrous,  exciting  laughter,  is  a 
sort  of  mental  nausea  ejecting  the  logically  absurd.^ 

§  250.  The  pleasurable  sentiment  of  utility  is  quite  dis- 
tinct from  that  of  beauty,  though  often  confounded  with  it. 
Beautiful  objects  please  directly  and  of  themselves.     Useful 

1  Unity  amid  variety  is  perhaps  tlie  essence  of  beauty.  But  variety  with- 
out unity,  if  tliere  be  no  discord,  is  pleasing.  Now  a  picturesque  object  is 
one  determinately  varied,  and  so  abrupt  in  its  variety,  presenting  such  an 
irregularity  of  broken  lines  and  angles,  that  to  reduce  it  to  unity  is  evidently 
impossible.  So,  giving  up  unity,  the  mind  falls  into  pleasing  play  amid  this 
variety.  In  a  landscape  a  church  spire  is  not  picturesque  but  graceful  ;  a 
dilapidated  windmill  is  not  graceful  but  picturesque.  A  race-horse  has 
beauty,  but  a  rough  donkey  with  his  panniers  makes  a  better  picture.  A 
stylishly  dressed  lady,  however  beautiful,  is  not  picturesque,  as  the  fashion- 
plates  prove  ;  but  a  peasant  or  a  ragged  beggar  girl  is  a  favorite  subject  with 
the  painters.  The  waste  and  calm  ocean  is  sublime  ;  a  ship  sailing  on  its 
placid  bosom  is  beautiful,  a  wreck  upon  its  rugged  cliffs  is  picturesque. 

-  The  sentiment  or  sense  of  the  ludicrous  is  a  highly  agreeable  mental 
titillation  attending  an  appreciation  of  wit  or  humor.  Aristotle  tells  us  that 
it  arises  from  ' '  some  error  in  truth  or  in  propriety,  neither  pernicious  nor 
painful  "  ;  Cicero,  from  "that  which  without  impropriety  notes  and  exposes 
an  impropriety,"  or  from  "a  sudden  conversion  into  nothing  of  a  long-raised 
and  highly  wrought  exi^ectation  "  ;  Kant,  from  "the  sudden  transformation 
of  a  sense  expectation  into  nothing"  ;  Hobbes,  from  "a  sudden  glory  aris- 
ing from  a  sudden  conception  of  some  eminency  in  ourselves,  by  comparison 
with  the  infirmity  of  others  "  ;  Johnson,  from  "  a  kind  of  discordia  concors,  a 
combination  of  dissimilar  images,  or  a  discovery  of  occult  resemblances  in 
things  apparently  unlike";  Hamilton,  from  "wit,  which,  like  a  flash  of 
lightning,  discovers  similarities  between  objects  which  seemed  contradic- 
tory" ;  Bain,  from  "the  degradation  of  some  person  or  interest  possessing 
dignity,  in  circumstances  that  excite  no  other  strong  emotion."  Bat  Spencer 
rejects -degradation  as  a  governing  circumstance,  saying:  "There  are  many 


282  FEELING. 

objects  please  indirectly  and  not  of  themselves,  but  by  rela- 
tion to  an  end  which  as  means  they  are  fitted  to  attain. 
"■  Pvilcrum  esse  quod  per  se  ipsum,  aptum  auteni  quod  ad 
aliquid  accomodatum  deceret."  ^  Neither  conditions,  neither 
determines,  neither  explains  the  other,  though  they  often 
coexist.  A  Greek  column  affords  both  kinds  of  pleasure,  it 
being  both  beautiful  in  form  and  useful  in  support.  But  an 
object  may  be  useful  without  beauty,  as  a  canal ;  or  beautiful 
without  utility,  as  a  cascade.  It  is  sometimes  said  that  the 
sentiment  of  utility  arises  in  view  of  a  means  to  ulterior 
pleasure.  Still  it  is  as  remote  as  ever  from  the  sentiment  of 
beauty. 

§  251.  Under  the  pure  or  non-sensuous  sentiments,  let  us 
first  note  those  that  are  intellectual  and  not  ethical.  They 
are  intellectual  in  that  they  attend  the  exercise  of  our  logi- 
cal faculties  in  connection  with  pure  intuition,  the  ultimate 
basis  of  all  true  sentiment. 

The  simplest  one  that  does  not  require  a  personal  object  is 
perhaps  the  sentiment  of  truth.  This  is  the  pleasant  feeling 
we  experience  on  recognizing  that  our  conception  corresponds 
to  its  object,  that  the  judgment  is  true.  It  is  the  pleasure 
of  knowledge.     It  is  distinguishable  specifically  from,  though 

instances  in  which  no  one's  dignity  is  implicated,  as  when  we  laugli  at  a 
good  pun."  The  instance  seems  badly  chosen,  for  in  punning  a  good  word 
is  usually  dragged  down  to  a  base  level,  or  if  not,  yet  wit  itself  is  therein 
brought  low,  or  at  least  the  punster  degrades  himself  in  condescending  to 
quibble. 

As  to  expression:  "The  lips  are,  of  all  features,  the  most  susceptible  of 
action,  and  the  most  direct  index  of  the  feelings.  If  an  idea  be  exceedingly 
ludicrous,  it  is  in  vain  that  we  endeavor  to  restrain  their  relaxation  and  com- 
press them." —  Bkll,  Essaij,  ch.  (5.  "During  excessive  laughter,  tlie  whole 
body  is  thrown  backward  and  shakes,  or  is  almost  conv\ilsed,  the  res]iiration 
is  much  disturbed,  the  head  and  face  become  gorged  with  blood.  Tears  are 
freely  shed.  Hence  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  point  out  any  difference  between 
the  tear-stained  face  of  a  person  after  a  paroxysm  of  laughter  and  after  a 
bitter  crying  fit."  — Dahwin,  Ej-prcxninn,  ch.  8. 

'  St.  Au'xustine  in  f'nufi'usifois.  lib.  iv,  cap.  2;'). 


SENriMEyr.  283 

always  accompanied  by,  a  high  degree  of  that  general  belief 
which  attends  all  forms  of  knowing  (§  227).^  In  'iie  observa- 
tion of  the  facts  of  nature  or  art,  in  the  identities  established 
by  science,  the  abstractions,  generalizations,  inductions,  deduc- 
tions, and  classifications  that  constitute  progress  in  knowledge, 
there  is  a  keen  positive  enjoyment,  often  referred  to  as  intel- 
lectual delight.  Contrary  statements,  opinions,  or  appear- 
ances are  disagreeable,  operate  as  a  painful  jar,  and  stimulate 
a  desire  for  reconciliation  that  greatly  promotes  the  exten- 
sion and  perfection  of  knowledge. 

The  sentiment  of  truth  often  rises  to  enthusiasm,  and  is 
attended  by  a  devotion  that  shows  it  to  be  one  of  the  most 
powerful  elements  of  human  nature.  Science  as  well  as 
religion  has  had  its  army  of  martyrs.  But  the  sentiment,  as 
merely  subjective,  determines  nothing  in  regard  of  objective 
truth  and  error,  and  men  will  lay  down  their  lives  in  support 
of  an  error  mistaken  for  truth,  as  readily  as  in  testimony  of 
truth  itself. 

The  charm  of  property  is  also  a  powerful  sentiment.  It  is 
perhaps  a  greater  stimulant  to  human  industry  than  want. 
Hunger  presses ;  but  having  beckons.  It  will  speedily  con- 
vert a  wilderness  into  gardens.  It  builds  cities,  and  heaps 
up  useless  riches. 

The  pleasure  of  pursuit  must  not  be  unnoticed.  It  is 
often  greater  than  that  of  possession.  After  the  chase,  who 
cares  for  the  game  ?     Suspense  is  in  itself  a  painful  feeling, 

1  Mere  belief  is  not  markedly  pleasurable.  Doubt  or  uncertainty,  when 
predominant,  is  an  uneasy,  disagreeable  and  painful  feeling.  We  earnestly 
seek  to  escape  it,  and  often,  when  a  legitimate  resolution  of  the  doubt  is  not 
at  hand,  the  situation  is  so  intolerable  that  we  escape  by  violence,  by  a 
plunge  into  belief,  or,  more  simply,  by  adopting  a  groundless  belief.  This 
accounts  for  much  error  (§  219).  The  tenacity  with  which  we  cling  to  our 
beliefs,  refusing  to  listen  to  reason  against  them,  is  perhaps  largely  due  to 
our  unwillingness  to  fall  into  doubt  and  uncertainty.  The  transition  from 
predominant  doubt  to  predominant  belief  is  highly  agreeable.  But  probably 
this  pleasure  is  merely  relative,  the  pleasiire  of  relief  (§  228).  The  feeling 
of  belief  is  one  of  settled  steadiness,  with  but  little  of  pleasure  or  pain. 


284  FEELING. 

but  it  seems  to  be  an  essential  ingredient  in  the  intense  pleas- 
ure of  pursuit,  for  "  the  end  of  uncertainty  is  the  death  of 
interest."  ^ 

The  pleasurable  sentiment  attending  freedom  arises  upon 
release  from  restraint.  Consciousness  of  restraint  is  painful, 
it  being  a  suppression  of  natural  energy.  Indeed  in  these 
opposites  we  have  the  recognized  basis  of  all  pleasure  and 
pain  (§  228).  We  speak  here  more  particularly  of  physical 
restraint  as  opposed  to  freedom  of  movement  and  speech  and 
conduct.  Confinement  is  a  severe  punishment  that  may 
amount  to  torture,  especially  with  the  young.  The  pleasure 
of  release  is  proportionally  great.  As  liberty  is  merely  the 
negative  of  constraint,  so  the  pleasure  of  liberty  is  merely 
relative,  existing  only  by  contrast;  it  is  the  pleasure  of 
deliverance.  When  the  contrast  disappears  the  pleasure 
would  also  disappear,  were  it  not  that  the  fact  of  liberty  sug- 
gests the  positive  pleasures  of  pursuit.  Otherwise  pleasure 
is  felt,  not  in  the  mere  negative  fact  of  freedom,  but  in  the 
free  exercise  of  one's  powers. 

§  252.  Pure  intellectual  sentiments  that  require  a  personal 
object  are  numerous,  and  as  in  the  previous  section  a  few 
typical  examples  must  suffice. 

1  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,  ch.  1.  The  attraction  of  a  plot,  as  it  is  gradually 
unfolded  in  a  drama  or  novel,  is  in  an  ideal  pursuit.  The  pleasure  of  field 
sports  lies  chiefly  in  the  interest  of  suspense  in  pursuit.  The  search  and 
uncertainty  make  a  charmed  interval  of  delay,  and  when  the  game  is  started 
there  comes  a  good  run.  The  fascination  of  gambling  finds  much  of  its 
explanation  here,  and  the  more  the  uncertainty,  the  more  the  excitement. 
In  many  activities  of  life  the  contest  pleases  more  than  the  victory.  The 
past  does  not  interest,  the  present  does  not  satisfy,  the  future  alone  engages 
us.  "  Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be,  blest."  "  Things  won  are  done,  joy's 
soul  lies  in  the  doing."  —  Troil.,  A.  1,  sc.  2. 

"  No  endeavor  is  in  vain, 
Its  rcwiircl  is  in  the  doing, 
And  the  rapture  of  pursuinir 
Is  the  prize  the  vanquished  gain." 

So  is  it  in  the  pursuit  of  truth.  We  enjoy  the  search  more  than  the  find- 
ing. Says  Malebranche  :  "Si  jc  tcnais  la  verite  captive  dans  ma  main, 
j'ouvrirais  la  main  afin  de  poursuivre  encore  la  v6rit6." 


SENTIMENT.  285 

The  person  that  excels  in  power,  intellect,  or  goodness,  we 
honor.  This  sentiment  is  somewhat  different  in  kind  and 
desrree  from  admiration  or  esteem.  Admiration  is  also  a 
response  to  excellence,  but  is  more  condescending  than 
honor.  Esteem  refers  to  the  useful  qualities  of  those  who 
do  well  their  part  in  life.  Industry,  integrity,  and  good 
sense  command  esteem  at  least,  perhaps  admiration,  but 
hardly  honor.  The  opposites  are  disdain,  contempt,  and 
scorn.  These,  like  the  ludicrous,  have  special  physical 
expressions.! 

A  judgment  of  the  ability  and  good  will  of  another  toward 
us  is  attended  by  the  sentiment  of  trust  or  confidence,  a  con- 
soling, cheering,  and  elevating  feeling.  The  reverse  judg- 
ment is  attended  by  suspicion  and  distrust.  Some  persons, 
especially  children,  are  naturally  trustful,  others  suspicious. 
Faith  is  a  complex  feeling,  combining  trust  and  belief  with 
hope,  which  last  consists  of  a  desire  and  an  expectation  also 
involvinof  belief. 

The  sentiment  of  pity  arises  in  view  of  another's  helpless- 
ness, trouble,  misfortune,  distress,  pain.  It  is  often,  though 
not  necessarily,  attended  by  sympathy ;  for  the  rich  may  pity 
the  poor,  the  wise  the  ignorant,  the  innocent  the  guilty,  but 
cannot  properly  be  said  to  sympathize  with  them.  It  is  a 
condescending  sentiment,  highly  pleasurable,  but  easily  turns 
to  contempt.  It  excites  a  desire  to  afford  relief,  and  thus  is 
a  source  of  beneficence.  Like  sympathy  it  is  greatly  pro- 
moted by  nearness  of  relation,  of  kind  or  kin,  and  then  in  its 
gentle,  continuous  form  it  becomes  loving-kindness  (§  246). 
As  though  it  were  the  very  essence  of  our  nature,  it  is  often 

1  "The  most  common  mode  of  expressing  contempt,"  says  Darwin,  "is 
by  movement  about  the  nose  or  round  the  mouth.  The  nose  may  be  sliglitly 
•turned  up,  which  apparently  follows  from  the  turning  up  of  the  upper  lip. 
These  actions  are  the  same  with  those  we  employ  when  we  perceive  an  offen- 
sive odor.  We  seem  to  say  to  the  despised  person  that  he  smells  offensively, 
in  nearly  the  same  manner  as  we  express  to  him,  by  half  shutting  our  eyelids 
or  turning  away  our  faces,  that  he  is  not  worth  looking  at." — Expression, 
ch.  11. 


28G  FEELING. 

called  humanity ;  and  a  j)itiless,  liard-hearted  deed  of  cruelty 
we  pronounce  inhuman. ^ 

§  253.  In  the  exercise  of  self-perception  or  introspection 
(§  108  S(|.),  we  recognize  as  belonging  to  ourselves  attributes 
which  when  observed  in  other  persons  excite  in  us  the  senti- 
ments of  esteem,  admiration,  and  honor,  or  their  opposites. 
This  discovery  produces  a  peculiar  effect.  There  is  great 
pleasure  in  contemplating  our  own  excellence  or  absolute 
worth ;  great  pain  in  view  of  our  inferiority  or  lack  of  esti- 
mable qualities.  These  sentiments  are  known  as  self-esteem, 
self-complacency,  self-confidence,  self-conceit,  vanity ,2  pride. 
Opposites  are  humiliation,  mortification,  chagrin,  humility. 
The  pleasure  or  pain  of  these  feelings  is  greatly  intensified 
when  our  character  or  conduct  calls  forth  open  manifestations 
of  corresponding  regard  from  those  around  us. 

The  sentiment  of  personal  honor  is  at  once  most  powerful, 
delicate,  and  sensitive.  It  cannot  be  touched  in  a  hisrh-minded 
person  without  stirring  and  putting  into  commotion  his  whole 
being.  An  appeal  to  it  is  sometimes  more  binding  than  an 
oath,  and  a  trespass  upon  it  makes  life  intolerable. 

The  thought  of  being  dishonored  by  another  excites  the 
sentiment  of  humiliation.  We  feel  as  if  thrown  to  the 
ground  and  degraded.  We  are  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed. 
When,  however,  our  own  judgment  also  condemns  us,  the 
humiliation  may  turn  to  mortification.  We  are  then  cast 
down  and  destroyed,  figuratively  put  to  death. 

The  sentiment  of  humility  is  different  from  humiliation. 
It  is  not  painful,  and  does  not  involve  a  sense  of  dishonor.  Jt 
is  the  opposite  of  false  pride.  It  admits  of  a  high  estimate 
of  one's  self  as  compared  with  others,  but  implies  a  low  esti- 

^  Pity,  tliougli  originally  the  same  word  as  piety,  docs  not  convey  a 
distinctively  religious  sense.  It  has  been  thought  that  a  sort  of  self-pity 
explains  "  the  luxury  of  grief."  Kant  wondered  that  there  could  be  "  so  much 
kindness  and  yet  so  little  pity  in  the  world." 

2  "La  vanit6,  c'est  le  mal  de  tons;  il  y  en  qui  en  meurent,  mais  le  plus 
grand  nomlirc  en  vit." 


SENTIMENT.  287 

mate  as  compared  with  an  ideal  standard.     When  this  stand- 
ard is  ethical,  humility  becomes  a  moral  sentiment.^ 

§  254.  Pure  moral  sentiments  are  now  to  be  considered. 
They  are  pure  in  being  non-sensuous.  They  differ  from  the 
exclusively  intellectual  class  in  being  both  intellectual  and 
ethical.  Their  essential  basis  is  an  intuition  of  moral  law  by 
pure  reason  ;  the  cognitions  to  which  they  are  correlative 
always  involve  ethical  elements.  The  vast,  weighty,  and 
all-pervading  feeling  or  sentiment  of  moral  obligation,  the 
sentiment  of  duty,  attending  the  intuition  of  moral  law  in  its 
specific  applications,  may  be  taken  as  generic,  or  as  implying 
the  moral  sentiments  generally.^ 

Inasmuch  as  moral  law  unconditionally  commands  us  to 
perform  our  duties,  implying  that  we  are  able  to  fulfil  them, 
there  is  attributed  to  man  an  absolute  worth,  an  absolute  dig- 
nity. The  sentiment  which  the  manifestation  of  this  worth 
inspires  is  called  respect.  One  cannot  be  said  to  feel  respect 
for  another,  nor  self-respect,  except  in  view  of  moral  worth 
or  dignity.  Disrespect  excites  indignation,  leading  to  resent- 
ment. Indignation  is  a  painful  sentiment,  yet  as  a  revolt  and 
self-assertive  of  worth,  it  consoles.  When  respect  rises  into 
reverence,  the  ethical  element  is  not  merely  unquestionable, 
but  becomes  predominant.  The  reverence  we  have  for  Cato 
is  because  we  see  in  his  character  and  conduct  an  embodi- 
ment and  manifestation  of  moral  law.  The  omnipotence  and 
omniscience  of  Deity  may  excite  our  highest  admiration  and 
awe ;  but  only  before  the  white-heat  of  his  holiness  do  we 
feel  reverence,  deepening  into  veneration  and  adoration. 

Another  class  of  moral  sentiments  arises  as  correlative  to 

1  "  The  first  and  last  step  in  tlie  education  of  the  scientific  judgment," 
says  Faraday,  "is  liuinility."  —  See  liis  admirable  lecture  in  Christian 
Thought  for  Nov.  1884,  "The  kingdom  of  men,"  says  Bacon,  "which  is 
founded  in  knowledge,  cannot  be  entered  in  any  other  manner  than  as  the 
kingdom  of  God  is  entered,  namely,  by  becoming  as  little  children."  Humility 
is  the  ground  (humus)  whence  all  the  virtues  spring. 

2  On  these  feelings,  see  Edinburgh  Eeview  for  2d  quarter  of  1883,  p.  236  sq> 


288  FEELING. 

a  moral  jiulginent  on  the  agent.  This  judgment  keeps  a  par- 
ticuhir  action  in  view,  but  bears  on  the  agent  rather  than  on 
the  action.  It  does  not  rehxte  to  his  general  character,  but 
to  him  as  doing  some  specific  act  or  acts.  This  agent  may  be 
some  other  person ;  then,  according  to  my  judgment,  I  expe- 
rience sentiments  of  approbation  or  disapprobation,  exciting  a 
disposition  to  reward  or  punish  him.  The  agent  may  be  my- 
self in  conscious  action;  then,  according  to  my  judgment  on 
my  own  conduct,  I  experience  self-approbation  or  self-con- 
demnation, self-reproach,  shame,  •  remorse,  together  with  a 
sentiment  of  ill-desert,  that  sometimes  prompts  a  self-surren- 
der to  justice.  If  I  habitually  practise  self-excuse,  self- 
respect  diminishes,  the  sentiment  of  shame  is  blunted,  and 
the  result  is  shamelessness.  This  may  consist  with  pride,  but 
not  with  self-respect.  While  self-condemnation  is  a  lasting 
pain,  self-approbation  is  one  of  the  purest  and  most  intensely 
pleasurable  feelings  of  which  the  mind  is  capable. 

Gratitude,  the  sentiment  awakened  by  the  good  offices  of 
another,  is  both  natural  and  ethical,  but  not  necessarily  relig- 
ious. It  inspires  love,  prompting  a  return  of  pleasure  for 
pleasure  received,  and  is  itself  an  added  pleasure.  It  enters, 
along  with  kindness,  largel}^  into  the  forms  and  substance  of 
true  politeness,  and  is  the  special  and  chief  lesson  taught  by 
the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  It  is  essential  in  good 
character  and  is  ennobling.  Gratitude  to  God  is  its  most 
obligatory  form.  The  lack  of  gratitude  to  a  benefactor  is 
considered  brutish,  and  nothing  is  more  abhorrent  or  inflicts 
keener  pain  than  positive  ingratitude,  a  return  of  evil  for 
good.     This  vanquished  Ca3sar,  and  maddened  Lear. 

The  sentiment  of  justice,  or  what  is  obligatory  in  the  mutual 
relations  of  life,  is  closely  allied  to  gratitude.  Much  may  be 
and  is  due  to  those  from  whom  nothing  has  been  received ; 
to  accord  it  is  justice.  Injustice,  like  ingratitude,  injures 
not  only  the  receiver,  but  the  doer  of  it.  Socrates  asks: 
"  Which  is  tlie  greater  evil,  to  do  or  to  suffer  wrong  ?  " 


PART  FIFTH. 
DESIRE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ITS    RELATIONS. 

§  255.  Desire  is  logically  defined  as  the  subjective  cona- 
tion (§  71).  More  fully,  it  is  a  conscious  activity  marked  by 
a  want  implying  an  impulse  or  tendency  relative  to  an  object 
seemingly  fitted  to  the  want  (§  74).  It  has  two  specific 
modes,  desire  proper  and  aversion. 

The  relation  of  desire  to  the  other  generic  powers  is  im- 
jjortant,  and  should  be  carefully  considered.  Let  us  observe 
first  its  relation  to  cognition. 

Although  desire  is  strictly  a  subjective  state,  it  is  often 
said  to  have  an  object,  that  is,  the  thing  desired.  But  it  is 
evident  that  the  object  thus  spoken  of  is  properly  an  object 
of  cognition,  which  being  in  some  sense  known,  comes  to  be 
desired.  A  thing  wholly  unknown,  neither  presented  nor 
represented,  cannot  be  desired.  Ignoti  nulla  cupido.  In  order 
to  desire,  there  must  be  a  logically  antecedent  and  causally 
coexisting  cognition  of  an  object,  with  its  correlative  feeling. 
Desire  is,  therefore,  conditioned  on  cognition .^ 

1  "In  cognition  there  exists  no  want ;  and  the  object,  whether  objective 
or  subjective,  is  neither  sought  for  nor  avoided  ;  whereas,  in  conation  tliere 
is  a  want,  and  a  tendency  supposed,  which  results  in  an  endeavor,  either  to 
obtain  the  object,  when  tlie  cognitive  faculties  represent  it  as  fitted  to  afford 
the  fruition  of  the  want ;  or  to  ward  off  the  object,  if  these  faculties  represrrt 

289 


290  DESIRE. 

Desire  impels  toward  the  attainment  of  an  end.  But  an 
end  requires  means.  Hence,  not  only  is  the  end  to  be  cog- 
nized, but  the  means  must  be  conceived,  thus  calling  into 
exercise  the  teleologic  judgment.  Then  the  conceived  means 
also  comes  to  be  desired  in  order  to  the  desired  end.  So  it  is 
that  desires  are  conditioned  secondarily  and  specifically  on 
the  teleologic  judgment. 

An  end  may  be  desirable,  that  is,  fitted  to  excite  desire, 
but  if  judged  unattainable,  it  cannot  be  truly  desired.  It  is 
pronounced  hopeless,  desire  being  essential  in  hope.  Hence 
it  is  that  desire  is  conditioned  also  on  a  practical  judgment, 
that  is,  on  a  judgment  that  the  end  is  possibly  attainable.  In 
still  other  words,  it  is  limited  to  what  is  deemed  practicable 
in  the  future,  implying  expectation  and  hope.^ 

Desire  has  respect  to  the  future  alone.  I  cannot  desire 
what  is  past,  for  it  has  ceased  to  be ;  nor  what  is  present,  for 
it  is  already  in  hand ;  I  desire  only  what  may  or  can  be. 
Therefore  it  is  definitely  conditioned  on  imagination,  which 
alone  represents  the  future.  Moreover,  since  desires  impel 
to  actions,  and  are  therefore  practical  in  character,  they  are 
still  more  especially  conditioned  on  the  practical  imagina- 
tion which  represents  also  the  means  requisite  to  the  end 
or  final  cause  of  the  primary  desire  (§  202). 

§  256.  It  is  very  important  to  observe  closely  what  desire 
has  in  common  with  feeling,  and  especially  by  what  it  is 
distinguished  therefrom,  the  two  being  commonly  confused 

it  as  calculated  to  frustrate  the  tendency  of  its  accomplishment."  —  Hamil- 
ton, Meta-i  p.  572.  'OpeKTiKbv  5i  ovk  dvev  (pavracrLas. —  Auistotle,  Ylepi  i^vxv^f 
Hi,  30. 

1  To  wish  has  a  -wider  meaning  than  to  desire.  Thej'  are  often  used 
synonymously,  the  object  lying  in  the  future,  e.g.  I  wish,  I  desire,  I  hope, 
etc.,  to  be  there.  In  other  cases  a  wish  relates  to  what  is  deemed  desirable 
but  impracticable,  coupled  with  regret,  the  object  lying  in  the  past,  present, 
or  future,  e.(/.  I  wish  (not  desire)  I  had  been  there  ;  I  wish  I  were  now 
there  ;  I  wish  I  could  be  tiiere.  Wish  and  regret  are  positive  and  negative 
correlatives,  e.g.  I  wish  I  could  go  ;  I  regret  I  cannot  go. 


ITS  RELATIONS.  291 

and  treated  indiscriminately,  usually  under  the  title  of  sensi- 
bilities (§  225  and  §  231,  note). 

Both  desire  and  feeling  are  wholly  subjective  states,  and 
both  are  modes  of  consciousness  ;  but  while  feeling  is  char- 
acteristically a  state  of  self-consciousness,  a  mode  of  con- 
sciousness and  nothing  more,  desire  is  a  state  of  consciousness 
and  something  more  as  a  specific  difference ;  it  is  conscious- 
ness of  a  want,  or  rather  a  conscious  want,  together  with  an 
impulse  toward  the  object  wanted.  This  want  and  impulse 
are  wholly  absent  from  feeling.  Feeling  gives  rise  to  desire, 
and  coexists  with  it,  and  is  modified  by  it ;  but  the  intimacy 
of  this  relation  should  make  us  only  the  more  careful  to  mark 
clearly  the  important  distinction  between  them. 

Pleasure  and  pain  are,  on  all  hands,  admitted  to  belong  to 
feeling ;  that  is,  all  feelings  are  either  pleasant  or  painful 
(§  228).  But  this  is  not  commonly  admitted  to  be  a  mark 
of  feeling  exclusively  characterizing  it,  and  so  distinguishing 
it  from  desire.  On  the  contrary,  desires  are  usually  consid- 
ered as  in  themselves  states  of  pain  exciting  an'  effort  to 
escape,  and  their  satisfaction  is  regarded  as  equivalent  to 
pleasure.^  This  view  confuses  distinct  psychical  powers, 
obscures  the  doctrine  of  conation,  especially  of  motive,  by 
making  pleasure  and  pain  all  dominating,  and  so  leads  to 
utilitarianism  in  morals,  and  to  pessimism  in  philosophy. 

Yet  it  seems  that  a  very  little  consideration  is  sufficient  to 
clear  the  confusion.  Pleasure  and  pain  belong  to  feeling 
only,  and  so  mark  it  off.  Desire  is  marked  by  want,  a  state 
of  unrest,  which  must  be  distinguished  from  pain,  implying 
an  impulse  leading  to   satisfaction,   which   must  be    distin- 

1  So  Kant,  as  quoted  by  Hamilton:  "We  find  ourselves  constantly  im- 
mersed in  an  ocean  of  nameless  pains,  which  we  style  disquietudes  or  desires  ; 
and  the  greater  the  vigor  of  life  an  individual  is  endowed  with,  the  more 
keenly  is  he  sensible  to  the  pains.  Man  thus  finds  himself  in  never-ceasing 
pain  ;  and  this  is  the  spur  for  the  activity  of  human  nature.  Pleasure  is 
nothing  positive  ;  it  is  only  a  liberation  from  pain,  and  therefore,  only  some- 
thing negative.  The  mind  is  harassed  by  a  multitude  of  obscure  uneasinesses, 
and  it  acts  for  the  mere  sake  of  changing  its  condition."  — Meta.,  p.  COO. 


292  DESIRE. 

guished  from  pleasure.  Certain  feelings,  pleasant  or  painful, 
excite  desire ;  certain  others  attend  it ;  certain  others  arise  on 
its  gratification.  All  these  must  be  set  apart  from  the  desire 
itself,  as  dissimilar  antecedents  and  consequents,  and  not 
mistaken  for  essential  characteristics  or  inherent  marks. 

The  distinction  becomes  clearer  on  observing  that  the  unrest 
of  desire  is  often  attended  by  highly  pleasurable  feelings  ;  as 
in  the  enjoyment  of  many  kinds  of  pursuit,  urged  by  a  desire  to 
attain  an  object.^  On  the  other  hand,  a  satisfaction  is  often 
eagerly  sought  which,  it  is  well  known,  will  be  attended  by 
painful  feelings  throughout,  as  in  nursing  the  sick,  or  engag- 
ing in  a  duel.2     Thus  the  propulsion  of  desire  to  satisfaction 

1  See  §  251.     "  Sordet  cognita  Veritas,"  says  Seneca. 

"  All  things  that  are 
Are  with  more  spirit  chased  than  enjoyed."  —  M.  of  V.,  A.  2,  sc.  6. 

"  Our  hopes,  like  towering  falcons,  rise 
At  objects  in  an  airy  height; 
But  all  the  pleasure  of  the  game 
Is  afar  off  to  view  the  flight."  —  Prior. 

Says  Aristotle  :  "  The  end  of  philosophy  is  not  knowledge,  but  the  energy 
conversant  about  i^nowledge."  And  Jean  Paul  Richter  says  :  "  It  is  not  the 
goal,  but  the  course,  which  makes  us  happy." 

Pursuit  may  properly  be  taken  in  a  wide  sense  as  meaning  the  activity 
excited  by  any  and  all  desires.  That  it  is  pleasurable  is  in  direct  contradic- 
tion of  the  doctrine  that  desires  are  pains.  Pleasure  attends  normal  activity. 
Surely,  desires  have  a  normal  action.  Dissatisfaction  is  the  unrest  of  desire. 
When  neither  overstrained  nor  impeded,  it  is  not  a  painful,  but  a  normal 
activity.  The  fulfilment  of  desire  is  satisfaction,  satiety  (from  satis,  enough), 
and  in  it  the  desire  ceases  to  be.  A  distinguishable  result  of  pursuit,  in  its 
wide  sense,  is  gratification,  i.e.  my  desire  is  gratified.  This  generally  implies 
a  pleasant  feeling,  with  a  continuance  of  the  desire.  When  pursuit  is  followed 
by  success,  taken  in  a  similarly  wide  sense,  this  is  often,  though  not  alwa\  s, 
pleasant.  It  may  be  an  inferior  degree  of  pleasure,  momentary  as  compared 
with  that  of  pursuit ;  yet  there  is  usually  a  pleasure  in  success,  experienced 
though  unsought.  ''  Mais  le  souffrance  empoisonne  les  succes  qiii  ne  sont  pas 
legitimes."  — Coisin. 

-The  duellist  wants  "satisfaction."  He  knows  very  well  that  all  its 
concomitants  and  all  its  consequents  are  painful,  yet  he  insists  upon  it,  and 
eagerly  seeks  it.  Othello,  too,  wanted  "satisfaction,"  with  all  its  horrors. 
Anger,  a  malevolent  desire,  seeks  its  en  1  in  disregard  of  present  and  prospec- 
tive pain.     The  miser  in  his  misery  continues  to  indulge  his  avarice.     Duties 


ITS  RELATIONS.  293 

often  overrides  and  disregards  all  consideration  of  pleasure  or 
pain,  either  present  or  prospective,  or  both.  In  general,  it  is 
true,  Ave  desire  what  will  give  pleasure,  and  have  an  aversion 
for  what  gives  pain;  but  numerous  exceptions  in  practice 
indicate  that  pleasure  or  enjoyment  is  only  one  of  the  many 
and  various  ends  desired,  and  that  present  or  prospective 
pain  is  only  one  of  many  that  excite  aversion. 

Another  mark  of  difference  between  feeling  and  desire  is 
that  feeling,  pleasant  or  painful,  belongs  exclusively  to  the 
present,  whereas  desire  and  aversion  have  reference  exclu- 
sively to  the  future,  the  impulse  being  either  to  maintain  a 
continuance  of  the  present  state,  or  to  exchange  it  for 
another.     Hence,  also,  desire  is  more  persistent  than  feeling. 

Feeling  stands  related  to  desire  as  cause  to  effect.  The 
sensations  of  an  empty  stomach  excite  desire  for  food,  those 
of  a  full  one  excite  loathing.  Pity  excites  inclination  to 
help  ;  indignation  arouses  anger  ;  wonder,  curiosity.  When 
there  is  no  feeling,  there  cannot  be  desire.  In  this  important 
sense  desire  is  conditioned  on  feeling. 

§  257.  Desire  is  the  subjective  element  in  conation,  correl- 
ative to  volition,  the  objective  element.  These  complement 
and  condition  each  other.  That  the  exercise  of  volition  or 
will  is  conditioned  on  desire  is  obvious.  There  can  be  no 
choice  except  between  desired  objects,  and  no  effort  except 
by  the  impulse  of  desire.  In  this  relation  desires  are  called 
motives,  being  the  efficient  causes  of  efforts,  and  so  of 
actions.^      On  the  other  hand,  desire  is  conditioned  on  the 

are  often  irksome,  sometimes  painful,  but  we  do  them.  Many  men  grumble 
"when  paying  debts,  and  perhaps  no  one  enjoys  "paying  for  a  dead  horse." 
But  why  multiply  cases?  A  very  little  observation  would  seem  sufficient  to 
convince  us  that  we  often,  nay,  almost  constantly,  pursue  desired  ends  in 
utter  disregard  of  the  pleasure  or  pain  that  attends  them,  or  that  is  conse- 
quent upon  them.  Indeed,  we  look  upon  the  one  who  merely  seeks  pleasure 
and  avoids  pain,  the  mere  pleasure-seeker,  with  contemptuous  scorn. 

1  A  motive  moves  us.  The  word  expresses  the  prompting,  impulsion, 
pressure,  tendency,  propensity,  or  inclination  of  desire.  These  words  are 
originally  mechanical.  The  term  motive  is  sometimes,  though  less  properly, 
applied  to  the  final  cause,  the  end  or  object  desired. 


294  IJESIEE. 

existence  of  will ;  for  it  implies  preference,  which  implies 
choice,  an  element  of  volition  ;  and  again  the  impulse  of  de- 
sire implies  a  tension  or  pressure  to  an  endeavor  or  effort, 
another  element  of  volition.  Clearly  there  can  be  no  impulse 
except  in  the  presence  of  something  impelled.  The  relation 
of  desire  and  volition,  therefore,  is  similar  to  that  of  feelhig 
and  cognition.  They  always  coexist,  conditioning  and  com- 
plementing each  other. 

It  is  well  to  observe  that  strong  will  implies  strong  desire, 
and  weak  will  weak  desire.  But  strong  desire  may  be 
accompanied  by  a  weak  will,  and  weak  desire  by  strong 
will.  Strong  desires  in  conflict  are  generallj^  equivalent  to  a 
weak  desire,  but  sometimes  in  this  case  will  shows  an  inde- 
pendent strength  in  repressing  one  of  the  opposites,  and  con- 
forming determinately  to  the  other.^ 

§  258.  Thus  far  we  have  had  in  view  only  the  rational 
•desires,  that  is,  desires  in  which  the  impulse  arouses  delibera- 
tion, involving  thought,  which  serves  to  guide  the  choice  and 
effort  of  volition.  These  desires  are  not  merely  conditioned 
on  the  cognition  of  an  object,  but  they  are  also  regulated  by 
intelligent  choice  between  alternatives.  But  desires,  probably 
all  of  them,  have  also  primarily  an  unintelligent  exercise, 
without  deliberation  and  without  choice,  as  in  the  natural 
prompting  or  propensity  of  hunger,  of  curiosity,  of  anger, 
and  of  maternal  love  (§  195).  The  primary  impulse,  at 
least,  is  blind  and  fatal  and  unregulated,  and  the  consequent 
volition  is  not  free,  but  consists  merely  of  a  dii-ectly  deter- 
mined effort.  We  discover  here  the  class  of  purely  psychical 
instincts,  co-ordinate  with  the  physical  and  the  psycho-ph}si- 
cal  instincts  heretofore  indicated  (§§  36,  230). 

1  III  a  previous  section  it  is  said  that  I  cannot  desire  the  unattainable. 
It  follows  that  I  cannot  try  to  attain  it,  the  desire  being  a  necessary  antece- 
dent to  the  voluntary  effort.  Accordingly,  it  was  said,  in  discussing  the 
practical  imagination :  "  I  cannot  even  altenipt  what  T  judge  and  believe  to 
be  impracticable"  (§  202).  Judging  the  end  unattainable,  I  cannot  truly 
desire  it,  and  so  cannot  really  try  to  reach  it. 


ITS  KINDS.  295 


CHAPTER   II. 

ITS   KINDS. 

§  259.  The  impulse,  tendency,  or  pressure  of  desire  is 
either  towards  taking  or  towards  giving.  The  want  calling 
for  satisfaction  must  therefore  be  understood  to  imply,  in  some 
cases,  a  lack  craving  supply,  as,  I  want  to  know ;  in  other 
cases,  a  wish  to  bestow,  as,  I  want  to  help.  This  furnishes  a 
primary  division.  Again,  the  desires  that  crave  are  fairly 
subdivided  into  those  that  have  a  physical  basis,  the  appetites, 
and  those  that  are  purely  psychical,  which  we  shall  call  the 
appetences.!  This  distribution,  connecting  with  that  to  be 
found  in  §  231,  appears  in  the  following  :  — 

SCHEME   OF   DESIRES. 

II.   Conation. 

1.    Subjective  conation,  or  Desire. 

A.  Craving. 

(1)  Appetite. 

(2)  Appetence. 

B.  Giving. 

(1)    Affection. 

The  craving  desires  incline  toward  impersonal  objects. 
They  urge  me  to  appropriate  what  seems  fitted  to  benefit  my- 
self, and  so  accounted  a  gain.  The  giving  desires  incline 
toward  persons.  They  urge  me  to  bestow  from  my  own 
resources  what  seems  fitted  to  benefit  another.  Let  us  make 
a  further  distribution.     The  subjoined  lists  are  by  no  means 

1  Appetence  is  the  same  V70rd  as  appetite,  from  ad  and  petere,  to  seek  for 
(see  next  note),  and  has  been  hkewise  narrowed  to  the  same  meaning. 
Justified  by  its  etymology,  we  nevertheless  make  bold  to  use  it  as  the  mucb- 
needed  name  of  the  second  class  of  desires. 


296  DESIRE. 

exhaustive.      They  are  given  for  the  sake  of  more  specific 
statement,  and  as  a  basis  for  subsequent  discussion. 


APPETITES. 

APPETENCES. 

AFFECTIONS. 

For  Food. 

For  Living. 

For  Kindred. 

Drink. 

Pleasure. 

Friends. 

Sleep. 

Property. 

Country. 

Sex. 

Knowledge. 

Mankind. 

Movement. 

Power. 

God. 

Each  of  the  craving  desires  has  its  opposite  aversion. 
Appetite  is  opposed  by  disinclination,  distaste,  disgust,  con- 
sequent generally  upon  satiety  ;  appetence  also  by  disinclina- 
tion, or  the  more  purely  negative  disregard  or  indifference. 
These  contraries  have  not  been  included  in  the  foregoing  dis- 
tribution, it  being  deemed  superfluous,  since  each  positive 
implies  its  negative.  Beside  the  benevolent  affections  men- 
tioned, there  is  a  series  of  aversions,  the  malevolent  affec- 
tions ;  as  anger,  envy,  jealousy,  misanthropy,  etc.  Some 
further  notice  of  these  will  be  taken  subsequently. 

§  260.  Appetite  is  the  craving  produced  by  a  recurring 
need  of  corporeal  life.^  Appetites  correspond  in  general 
with  sensations.  They  are  always  preceded  and  attended  by 
sensations  as  causes.  The  sensation,  however,  may  exist 
without  the  appetite;  as,  I  may  feel  dry  without  being 
thirsty,  especially  when  my  attention  is  otherwise  engaged. 
The  sensations  that  induce  appetite  belong  chiefly  to  the 
sensus  vagus  (§§  29,  233).  When  any  member  of  this  sense 
excites  in  us  a  want  tending  to  the  appropriation  of  some 
material  thing  which  will  satisfy  or  appease  it,  this  is  properly 
an  appetite.  As  the  basis  is  physical,  so  also  in  general  is 
that  which  appeases.^ 

1  The  Romans  and  the  Latinists  used  the  word  appetite  as  coextensive 
with  desire.  Thus  Cicero:  "  Motus  animorum  duplices  sunt;  alteri,  cogita- 
tionis ;  alteri,  appetitus.  Cogitatio  in  vero  exquirendo  maxime  versatur ; 
appetitus  impellit  ad  agendum."     Cf.  §  71,  note. 

2  Appease,  from  ad  pacem,  at  peace.  Plenty,  from  plenns,  full.  Since 
appetites  orighiate  in,  and  are  attended  by,  sensations,  their  excessive  indul- 
gence is  called,  in  a  bad  sense,  sensuality. 


ITS  KIJSBS.  297 

Hunger,  a  desire  for  food,  is  rightly  the  typical  appetite. 
It  is  due  to  a  state  of  the  stomach.  Thirst  is  distinguishable 
as  a  call  for  cooling  liquid  in  a  dry  and  heated  state  of 
the  air-passages  and  skin.  The  desire  for  fresh  air  may  be 
regarded  as  an  appetite,  having  its  origin  in  pulmonary  sensa- 
tions. Drowsiness,  or  a  desire  for  sleep,  should  perhaps  be 
included.  These  have  reference  to  the  maintenance  of  life. 
Carnal  concupiscence,  the  sexual  appetite,  has  reference  to 
the  propagation  of  life.  It  is  compatible  with  sexual  love, 
but  should  be  marked  as  quite  distinct.^  The  foregoing  are 
natural  appetites,  and  each  has  its  instinctive,  original,  and 
powerful  phase.  Morbid  and  artificial  appetites  are  acquired 
under  the  influence  of  habit,  and  are  transmittible  by  heredity  ; 
as,  the  appetites  for  tobacco,  liquor,  and  opium.  It  would 
be  hard  to  distinguish  from  appetites  the  nameless  longings 
which  arise  in  great  number  and  variety  out  of  numerous 
subjective  sensations,  —  such  as  weariness,  restlessness,  faint- 
ness,  etc. 2  In  general,  these  prompt  an  escape  from  pain, 
and  so  mio-ht  be  referred  to  the  class  of  aversions. 

But  moreover,  we  need  light  and  sound  and  muscular 
exercise  for  health  and  comfort,  and  the  deprivation  of  any 
one  of  these  brings  on  a  disagreeable  state  of  unrest  which 
longs  for  relief.  But  this  is  not  strictly  appetite.  Even 
taste,  apart  from  stomachic  sensations,  hardly  affords  a  basis 
for  an  appetite.  Still,  such  is  the  recurring  need,  and  so 
thoroughly  subjective  is  the  craving  for  physical  exercise, 
that  we  have  ventured  to  include  this  in  the  list  as  repre- 
sentative of  a  large  and  important  class  of  corporeal  wants 
not  elsewhere  considered. 

1  To  list  or  listen,  Anglo-Saxon  lustan,  to  incline  or  lean  towards ;  an 
expression  of  desire.  Lust  means,  primarily,  desire  in  general,  but  has 
acquired  a  bad  sense  ;  as,  lust  for  gold.  There  is  a  tendency  to  limit  the 
meaning  to  the  above-named  appetite. 

'■'  When  one  wants  to  sneeze,  it  has  been  said,  he  would  rather  do  that 
than  anything  else  in  the  world.  Certainly,  not  for  the  pleasure  of  it,  though 
there  be  pleasure  in  it.  The  want  attending  excrementation  in  general  may 
be  construed  as  appetitive  aversion. 


298  DESIRE. 

Besides  their  physical  character,  another  mark  distinguishes 
appetites  from  the  remaining  desires.  It  is  their  periodicity. 
They  arise  at  intervals,  more  or  less  regular,  and  become 
temporarily  appeased  and  quiescent  on  satisfaction.  Hence 
the  term  satisfaction,  with  its  cognates,  to  satisfy,  to  satiate, 
satiety,  etc.,  is  better  applied  to  appetites  than  to  psychic 
desires,  which  are  rarely  satisfied. 

§  261.  The  desires  marked  in  the  scheme  as  appetences 
are  psychic  desires.  Appetence  is  the  craving  produced  -by 
a  recognized  need  of  mental  life.  In  a  loose  and  genei'al 
way,  appetences  may  be  said  to  correspond  to  emotions  as 
their  causes ;  e.g.  wonder  begets  curiosity.  Like  sensation 
and  emotion,  appetite  and  appetence  seem  to  be  common  to 
man  and  brute ;  appetites  predominating  in  the  brute,  appe- 
tences in  man,  perhaps  because  the  latter  call  for  higher 
intelligence.  Aj)petence  is  more  persistent  than  appetite, 
and  is  gratified  rather  than  satisfied ;  for  instead  of  ceasing, 
it  is  often  stimulated  by  supply.  Like  appetite  it  is  directed 
to  things,  or  to  persons  viewed  as  mere  things.  It  takes 
the  form  both  of  desire  proper  and  of  aversion.  In  the  one, 
it  craves  things  seemingly  fitted  to  gratify ;  in  the  other,  it 
avoids  things  distasteful.  In  either  case,  the  attainment  is 
accounted  a  personal  gain.  Being  cravings,  longings  for  a 
gain,  appetences  as  well  as  appetites  are  primarily  altogether 
selfish  in  their  aims  and  ends. 

In  noting  a  few  illustrative  examples  of  the  appetences, 
we  name,  first,  the  desire  to  continue  in  life,  leading  to 
effoj'ts  for  its  conservation.  This  has  a  powerful  instinctive 
exercise,  manifest  in  a  blind  impulse  to  self-preservation  in 
case  of  danger ;  but  also  an  intelligent  exercise,  manifest 
in  careful  provision  for  its  needs,  and  in  energetic  actions 
thouglitf  ully  combined  to  compass  the  end.  It  enters  largely 
into  all  human  conduct,  and  is  so  strong  that,  when  life  is 
threatened,  it  commonly  overrides  all  other  interests,  and 
is  profou:;d]y  oblivious  even  of  duty.     The  natural  terror  of 


ITS  KINDS.  1^99 

death  is  assuaged  by  the  belief  that  it  is  not  annihihxtioii, 
that  there  is  an  after-life ;  and  we  are  also  consoled  by  the 
thought  that  we  shall  still  live  in  our  descendants.  Circum- 
stances may  induce  a  morbid  aversion  to  life.  Tedium  has 
already  been  noted  as  productive  of  this  effect.  "  I'm  aweary, 
I'm  aweary ;  would  to  God  that  I  could  die  !  "  Hence,  and 
for  other  bad  reasons,  suicide. 

We  next  observe  that  there  is  undoubtedly  a  universal 
desire  for  pleasure  and  an  aversion  to  pain.  Accordingly, 
one  is  prone  to  seek  things  calculated  to  please,  and  to  avoid 
those  that  give  pain.  In  the  Epicurean,  the  mere  pleasure- 
seeker,  this  desire  overrides  and  subordinates  all  others.  He 
makes  not  only  his  appetites  and  appetences,  but  even  his 
affections  subserve  this  end.  He  desires  certain  things  solely 
for  the  pleasant  feeling  they  excite,  and  earnestly  avoids  all 
those  that  offend,  never  admitting  a  present  pain  except  as 
a  means  to  some  ulterior  pleasure.  Now  all  men  at  times 
seek  pleasure  merely  for  its  own  sake,  but  in  the  nobler 
characters  this  is  only  occasional.  In  general,  they  set  for 
themselves  higher  and  more  varied  ends,  and  pursue  these  in 
total  disregard  of  the  pleasures  or  pains  that  may  occur 
either  in  the  process  or  in  the  result.  Let  it  be  emphasized 
that  pleasure  is  only  one  of  the  many  objects  of  natural 
■desire,  and  pain  only  one,  and  by  no  means  the  greatest, 
object  of  aversion.  There  are  a  multitude  of  evils  recognized 
as  far  greater  than  pain.^ 

Another  appetence  is  curiosity  or  inquisitiveness,  —  these 
words  being  taken  in  a  wide  and  good  sense,  the  desire  for 
knowledge.  This  also  has  a  notable  instinctive  exercise,  and 
in  its  higher,  intelligent  form  is  a  powerful  incentive  to 
action,  improvement,  and  progress.     It  is  figuratively  spoken 

1  The  Hedonists  said  that  pain  is  the  greatest  of  evils.  The  Stoics  denied 
in  toto  that  pain  is  an  evil.  The  Peripatetics,  however,  allowed  pain  to  be 
an  evil,  hut  affirmed  that  vice  is  a  greater  evil.  This  last  is  more  in  accord 
'With  the  views  now  prevalent  in  Christendom.  

01?  THE        ' 


300  DESIRE. 

of  as  a  hunger  and  thirst  for  knowledge,  which  liowcver 
hxrgely  gratified,  is  never  properly  satisfied-^ 

Acquisitiveness  is  the  desire  for  property  in  things.  When 
extreme,  it  is  called  avarice,  and,  with  reference  to  appetite, 
greed.  Its  influence  in  determining  the  aL-tivities  of  human 
life  should  be  remarked  (§  251). 

Ambition,  or  the  desire  for  power,  is  directed  toward  per- 
sons, but  commonly  regards  and  treats  them,  not  as  persons, 
but  as  mere  things.  Napoleon  Avas  "  a  sceptered  hermit." 
In  its  petty  forms,  as  in  small  politics,  it  disregards  the  feel- 
ings and  rights  of  others,  and  is  thoioughly  selfish ;  but  when 
regulated  by  a  sense  of  duty  (§  266)  and  guided  by  genius, 
it  commands  not  onl}-  admiration,  but  esteem.^ 

Sociality,  the  desire  for  society,  is  an  approach  toward 
affection,  yet  views  otliere  as  means  rather  than  as  ends,  and 
so  is  selfish.  We  are  gregarious  animals,  seeking  to  consort 
with  our  fellows,  and  to  be  in  the  fashion.  Ofttimes,  how- 
ever, we  find  it  grateful  and  healthful  to  be  alone ;  and 
sometimes  there  springs  up  a  morbid  aversion  to  society. 
Sociality  is  akin  to  sympathy  (§  246).  Out  of  it  arises  imi- 
tativeness,  a  psychic  instinct,  marked  in  children,  but  disa])- 
pearing  with  culture  ;  and  emulation,  a  psychic  desire,  notable 
in  maturer  persons,  and  increasing  with  culture.  Approba- 
tiveness,  or  the  desire  for  the  esteem  of  others,  is  also  social 
in  its  impulse.  A  lack  of  it  is  unnatural  and  injurious,  a 
negative  mark  of  defective  character. 

§  262.  Affection,  or  love,  is  an  impulse  or  inclination 
toward  other  persons,  disposing  us  to  give  out  from  our  own 

'  Suppose  some  one  says  to  me  :  "  T  have  bad  news  for  you."  "  What  is 
it  ?  "  "  Be  content  not  to  know."  "  No  ;  tell  me."  "  It  will  give  you  very 
great  pain."  "  Nevertheless,  tell  me  at  once  ;  I  want  to  know."  Indeed,  I 
may  become  almost  frantic  under  the  impulse.  How  can  such  familiar  expe- 
rience be  explained  by  those  wlio  would  resolve  all  impulses  into  a  desire  for 
pleasure  and  an  aversion  to  pain  ? 

2  The  famous  speech  of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  in  K.  Henry  VIII,  A.  3,  at  the 
close  of  8c.  2,  is  too  well  known  to  allow  of  quotation. 


ITS  KINDS.  301 

resources  what  may  benefit  or  injure  them.  In  a  loose  and 
general  way,  it  may  be  said  that  affections  correspond  to 
sentiments  as  their  caiuses ;  e.g.  pity  begets  a  desire  to  relieve. 
They  are  attended,  however,  by  a  special  class  of  emotions 
(§  245).  The  brute  is  supposed  to  be  incapable  of  them, 
except  in  instinctive  or  in  rudimentary  forms,  and  so  they 
are  accounted  especially  human.  Practically  their  tendency 
is  the  reverse  of  the  appetites  and  appetences,  for  they  do  not 
take,  but  give.  Moreover,  they  are  exercised  toward  persons 
or  sentient  beings  only,  not  at  all  toward  mere  things,  for 
they  presuppose,  not  only  intelligence  in  the  subject,  but  also 
a  possible  harmony  or  discord  of  affection  in  the  object.  In 
pure  exercise  they  contrast  with  the  craving  desires  in  being 
wholly  unselfish.^ 

Affections  are  subdivided  into  the  benevolent  and  the 
malevolent.2  We  may  call  it  love  and  hate.  Benevolent 
affection  is  modified  according  as  it  is  consequent  upon  the 
sentiments  of  pity,  kindness,  gratitude,  reverence,  etc.,  the 
object  being  esteemed  inferior,  equal,  or  superior  in  its  nature 
or  experience. 

Our  first  example  of  benevolent  affection  is  kinship,  or  the 
love  of  kindred,  especially  the  family  tie.  This  exhibits  the 
varieties  of  conjugal,  parental,  maternal,  filial,  and  fraternal 
love.  It  has  notably  in  each  case,  but  especially  in  maternal 
love,  a  strong  instinctive  exercise.-^     Very  often  these  affec- 

1  Affection,  unlike  appetite  and  appetence,  has  primarily  a  passive  sense  ; 
we  are  affected  thus  and  so.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  this  class  of  desires 
readily  becomes  passionate,  or,  more  probably,  the  primarily  recipient  state 
of  the  subject,  induced  the  use  of  this  passive  term. 

2  The  reader  should  note  the  etymology  of  benevolent  and  malevolent,  of 
■benignant  and  malignant,  of  beneficent  and  maleficent. 

3  Some  one  has  well  said  that  labor  of  every  kind  is  in  itself  bitter,  but  is 
sweetened  by  love.  Even  the  pains  of  childbirth  are  qualified  and  assuaged 
by  the  awakening  feelings  of  maternity.  George  Sand  discovered  in  herself 
the  strength  of  maternity,  and  her  best  works  are  devoted  to  depicting  its 
transcendent  power.  Sexual  love,  the  commonplace  of  the  novelist,  is  shown 
to  be  light  in  comparison,  and  the  profound  love  which  every  fair  man  has 
for  his  mother  is  still  a  shallow  depth  of  what  the  mother  has  for  her  son. 


302  DESIRE. 

tions  are  coraj^ressed,  by  association,  into  the  love  of  home» 
But  it  is  not  the  phice  or  home  that  truly  is  loved,  but  those 
belonging  to  it.  "  'Tis  home  where  the  heart  is."  Affection 
expands,  with  diminishing  force,  to  collateral* kindred. 

Another  form  is  friendship,  or  the  love  of  our  fellows 
whom  we  like,  i.e.  to  whom  we  are  like  in  important  respects, 
and  with  whom,  therefore,  we  agree,  or  whom  we  lind  agreea- 
ble and  congenial.!  Hence  arise  fraternities  or  brotherhoods, 
clubs,  societies,  and  churches.  An  important  modification  is 
the  love  of  a  benefactor,  arising  from  the  sentiment  of  grati- 
tude (§  254). 

The  tribal  affection  should  not  be  overlooked,  notable  in 
clans  and  clanship.  Its  strength  is  best  indicated,  perhaps, 
by  the  antipathy  between  different  races,  which,  as  it  has  a 
marked  instinctive  exercise,  seems  native,  ineradicable,  and 
within  limits,  justifiable. 

Patriotism,  or  the  love  of  one's  country,  has  a  wider  circum- 
ference and  a  more  generous  flow.  It  embraces  fellow-citi- 
zens, all  living  under  a  common  government.  Anciently  it 
was  accounted  one  of  the  greatest  of  virtues,  involving  hos- 
tility toward  all  outsiders  as  gentiles  and  barbarians.  Chris- 
tianity is  gradually  suppressing  this  hostility  in  favor  of 
pliilanthropy,  but  does  not  forbid  strong  patriotic  affection. 
This  love  is  not,  as  commonly  thouglit,  toward  the  country 
itself,  which  as  a  senseless  thing  cannot  experience  benefit, 
and  so  cannot  be  loved.  The  love  is  for  the  people,  and  for 
their  sake  one  labors  to  improve  the  government  and  the 
country .2     It  is  by  association  and  personification  that  we 

1  The  variety  of  cognate  terms  is  worth  noting  ;  genesis,  genus,  and  genius 
or  the  divine  element  or  tutelar  deity  (like  enthusiasm,  iv  6eb%).  More 
especially  gentle,  genteel,  genial,  and  generous,  of.  kindly.  Let  us  add  that 
the  genial  element  enters  into  all  forms  of  real  courtesy,  for  true  politeness 
is  love  in  trillcs. 

■-  "  I  call  that  my  country,"  said  .John  Winthrop,  "  wheie  I  may  most 
glorify  God,  and  enjoy  the  presence  of  my  dearest  friends."  —  Green's  Short 
History,  p.  498. 


ITS  KINDS.  303 

become  attached  to  places  and  to  things,  and  speak  of  loving 
them,  as  though  they  were  sentient  beings. 

Philanthropy  is  the  love  of  mankind  at  large.  '■'■  Hoino 
sum.,  humani  niliil  a  me  alienum  puto"  called  forth  the  plau- 
dits of  even  a  Roman  theatre.  But  the  brotherhood  of  man 
is  eminently  a  Christian  doctrine,  in  opposition  to  the  racial 
and  patriotic  hostilities  of  heathendom. 

The  love  of  God,  or  piety  in  its  best  and  largest  sense,  is 
the  climax  of  the  affections.  It  enforces  and  embraces  them 
all.  If  a  man  say,  I  love  God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a 
liar.  We  should  love  God  for  his  own  sake,  and  all  others 
for  God's  sake. 

§  263.  Malevolent  affections  may  be  typified  by  hate,  and 
anger  or  resentment,  impelling  us  to  inflict  pain  and  in- 
jury.i  They  also  follow  sentiments,  such  as  indignation, 
dishonor,  etc. 

Hatred  is  more  persistent  than  anger;  the  latter  being 
a  hot,  transitory  passion,  the  former  cold  and  continuous. 
Closely  akin  to  these  is  the  savage  impulse  to  revenge,  which 
inflicts  injury  merely  in  the  indulgence  of  the  resentful  and 
malicious  impulse.  To  avenge  is  to  inflict  just  retribution. 
upon  an  evil  doer,  and  so  may  be  a  righteous  action. 

Jealousy  is  consequent  upon  suspicion,  and  arises  when  we 
imagine  that  some  one  is  aiming  to  deprive  us  of  what  is  our 
own,  and  dearly  prized.  In  some  natures  it  needs  only  '^  a 
trifle  light  as  air "  to  arouse  the  impulse,  which  readily 
passes  or  rushes  to  a  blind  and  deadly  passion.^ 

1  They  are  all  akin  to  insanity.  We  say,  in  common  speech,  the  man  is 
mad. 

2  It  is  the  custom  to  regard  Othello  as  especially  illustrating  jealousy. 
This  is  questionable.  Coleridge,  a  very  subtile  analyst,  boldly  denies  that 
the  Moor  was  jealous.  Indeed,  his  struggle  seems  not  so  much  between  love 
and  jealousy,  as  between  love  and  honor.  Leontes,  in  Winter''s  Tale,  is  a 
more  notable  victim  of  the  passion.  Othello  has  much  of  our  sympathy  ; 
Leontes,  we  despise.  It  were  curious  to  consider  how  much  of  the  purity  of 
society  is  due  to  the  lurking  and  threatening  of  this  passion.  It  is  a  powerful 
protective. 


304  DESIRE. 

Envy  is  the  desire  to  reduce  another  to  our  own  level,  or 
below.  It  differs  from  emulation,  which  desires  merely  to 
rise  to  or  above  another.  This  is  not  malevolent,  and  is 
ennobling.  But  envy,  besides  being  a  malevolent  and  igno- 
ble impulse,  is  altogether  without  an  excuse,  or  wholly  evil. 
Each  of  the  foregoing  has  its  defensive  or  punitive  element, 
whereas  envy  is  simply  injurious. 

Cruelty  is  an  odious  malevolence.  It  has  degrees,  from 
mere  indifference,  on  through  wantonness,  up  to  the  nameless 
form  that  finds  pleasure  in  giAdng  pain.  It  is  horrible  to 
know  that  there  is  ever  a  pleasurable  thrill  in  the  flesh  of  the 
arm  that  strikes  a  blow,  that  there  are  men  who  enjoy  using 
the  whip.  Cruelty  implies  pain  ;  yet  the  surgeon  is  not 
cruel,  nor  is  it  cruel  to  punish.  It  is  more,  too,  than  giving 
needless  pain.  Cruelty  is  pain-giving  trespass.  It  is  the 
trespass,  and  not  the  pain-giving,  that  makes  it  wicked ;  yet 
it  is  rather  the  pain-giving  that  makes  it  harrowing  and 
damnable  in  the  eyes  of  pity.  Like  envy,  cruelty  is  utterly 
without  excuse. 

Lastly,  misanthropy,  or  hatred  of  mankind,  sometimes  takes 
merel}^  a  negative  form  by  withdrawing  from  all  society,  but 
also  may  be  positively  injurious.  In  the  one  case  it  injures 
by  disregarding  social  duty,  in  the  other  by  doing  violence 
to  social  rights. 1 

• 

1  Moliere's  Alceste,  and  Timon  of  Athens,  are  fine  illustrations  of  the  two 
phases  indicated.  The  melancholy  Jaques  was  hardly  a  misanthrope.  lago 
is  the  incarnation  of  envy. 


ITS  REGULATION.  305 


CHAPTER   III. 

ITS   KEGULATION. 

§  264.  Desires  often  conflict ;  that  is,  the  gratification  of 
some  one  is  incompatible  with  the  gratification  of  some  other. 
This  conflict  arises  between  members  of  the  same  class,  but 
more  notably  between  members  of  different  classes.  In  gen- 
eral there  is  a  conflict  between  the  craving  desires  which  would 
take,  and  the  affections  which  would  give.  In  instinctive 
exercise  the  appetites  are  strongest,  the  affections  weakest, 
though  exceptional  cases  occur.  In  rational  exercise  there  is 
recognized  a  gradation  in  dignity  or  worth  and  excellence, 
the  inverse  of  instinctive  strength,  affection  being  highest  in 
the  scale,  and  appetite  lowest.  This  superiority  of  affection 
is  due  to  its  having  the  larger  share  of  the  rational  element, 
to  its  call  for  self-denial,  and  to  the  intimate  relation  between 
the  exercise  of  affection  and  observance  of  moral  law.  But 
there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  either  class  to  give  it  the 
supremacy  of  control.  Hence  there  appears  a  need  for  some 
controlling  principle  or  consistent  principles.  '  These  are 
found  in  the  regulative  desires  (not  exhibited  in  the  fore- 
going scheme)  which  are  fitted  by  their  nature  to  subordinate 
and  regulate  all  others. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  the  will  regulates  the  desires, 
suppressing  this,  enhancing  that.  True  ;  but,  as  every  exer- 
cise of  Avill  is  conditioned  on  an  antecedent  desire,  what 
desire  or  desires  are  the  antecedents  of  this  special  exercise 
of  will,  in  which  it  acts  as  an  intermediary  ?  The  answer  is, 
the  regulative  desires. 

§  265.  The  regulative  desires  are  two:  interest,  or  the 
desire  for  happiness,  and  the  impulse  to  duty,  or  the  desire  to 


306  DESIRE. 

do  right.  The  former  is  often  called  self-love ;  but  this 
improperly  confuses  it  with  the  affections,  or  modes  of  love.^ 
The  latter  may  fairly  be  called  the  moral  impulse,  but  is  to 
be  distinguished  from  conscience. 

Interest  urges  us  to  seek  and  appropriate  the  means  to  our 
own  happiness  as  an  end.^  Thus  it  is  strictly  egoistic  or 
selfish  in  its  direction  and  tendency,  and  therefore  intimately 
related  to  the  craving  desires,  the  appetites  and  appetences. 

The  moral  impulse  urges  us  to  pay  our  dues  in  the  widest 
sense,  for  this  is  the  meaning  of  duty,  and  what  we  owe  we 
ought  to  pay.^  Thus  it  is  strictly  altruistic  in  its  direction 
and  tension,  and  therefore  intimately  related  to  the  affections. 

It  might  seem  from  the  foregoing  that  the  regulative 
desires  are  themselves  in  essential  opposition,  that  duty  con- 
flicts with  interest,  and  impels  us  away  from  our  own  happi- 
ness. But  not  necessarily  so.  The  relation  is  conceived 
more  truly  thus :  Interest,  seeking  one's  own  happiness  in 
violation  or  disregard  of  duty,  never  finds  it.  Its  selfish  dic- 
tates are  misleading,  injurious,  and  wrong,  and  the  outcome 
therefore  a  failure.     Duty,  seeking  the  good  of  others,  impels 

1  The  definition  of  affection  or  love  (§  202)  excludes  the  notion  of  self- 
love,  or  love  of  one's  self  as  impossible,  self-contradictory,  and  absurd. 
Strictly,  there  is  no  such  thing ;  loosely,  it  is  a  synonym  of  selfishness.  In 
this  sense,  good  usage  admits  the  phrase,  e.g.  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  [thou  lovest]  thyself." 

2  Happiness  is  harmony  between  our  wants  and  condition.  A  utilitarian 
would  define  it  as  the  maximum  of  pleasure,  satisfaction,  gratification,  and 
contentment  in  life,  implying  a  minimum  of  their  opposites.  See  Pope's 
rhapsody  in  Essay  on  Man,  beginning :  — 

"  Oh,  happiness!  our  being's  end  and  aim." 
Prudence,  wisdom,  policy,  expediency,  dictate  that  we  should  often  forego  a 
present  gnitification  for  a  future  and  greater  gratification,  in  order  to  secure 
the  maxhnum. 

8  Ought  is  an  old  preterite  of  to  owe  ;  and  this  formerly  had  the  double 
meaning  of  to  be  indebted  and  to  own,  to  possess.    For  example :  — 

"  Be  pleased,  then. 
To  pay  that  duty  which  you  truly  owe 
To  him  that  owes  it."  —  A'.  John,  A.  2,  bc.  1. 

Altruism  is  from  Lat.  niter,  another,  and  is  in  opposition  to  egoism. 


ITS  REGULATION.  307 

away  from  interest  but  not  from  happiness  ;  for  in  its  perfect 
exercise,  true  happiness,  or  what  is  the  same,  the  highest 
good,  is  attained,  though  unsought.  This  genuine  happiness 
is  tliat  defined  by  Aristotle  as  "the  energy  of  the  soul,  accord- 
ing to  the  best  virtue,  in  a  complete  life."  ^  It  appears,  then, 
that  the  moral  impulse  has  at  least  the  office  of  control  over 
interest  also,  and  therefore  it  alone  is  rightfully  supreme 
over  all  desires. 

§  266.  What  now,  more  particularly,  are  the  relations  of 
the  regulative  to  the  subordinate  desires  ?  The  moral  impulse 
or  desire  to  do  duty,  being  altruistic,  is  in  general  accord  with 
the  benevolent  affections. ^  It  urges  them  from  their  merely 
natural  exercise  up  to  the  higher  plane  of  moral  obligation, 
regulating  them  in  due  proportion  among  themselves.  In 
regard  of  the  two  lower  classes,  it  counteracts  their  interested, 
selfish,  egoistic  tendencies,  impelling  them  to  a  disinterested 
exercise  toward  a  higher  altruistic  end.  For  example,  interest 
impels  me  to  seek  food,  knowledge,  property,  power,  etc., 
each  for  its  own  sake,  or  rather  for  the  sake  of  the  gratifica- 
tion it  will  afford  me,  the  end  being  altogether  selfish.  The 
impulse  to  duty,  in  view  of  the  higher  end,  the  good  of 
others,  urges  me  to  seek  these  things  in  order  to  increase  my 
ability  to  serve  others,  or  to  use  what  I  obtain  in  such  ser- 
^dce.^     When  the  inferior  desires  stretch  toward  this  higher 


1  Nic.  Ethics,  bk.  i,  ch.  6.  "  L'erreur  des  utilitaires  est  cle  s'etre  trompes 
sur  la  definition  du  bonheur.  Le  bonheur  n'est  pas,  comme  le  pretend 
Bentham,  la  plus  grande  somme  de  plaisii-  possible  ;  c'est  le  plus  haut  etat 
d'excellence  possible,  d'oCi  r^sulte  le  plaisir  le  plus  excellent."  —  Janet,  La 
Morale,  ch.  4. 

-  Also  with  the  malevolent  affections  (except  envy  and  cruelty)  within 
certain  limits,  for  there  is  "  a  righteous  anger." 

3  The  gratification  of  the  craving  desires  is  still  exiDerienced,  but  it  is  not 
that  which  is  sought.  They  still  crave  and  enjoy  fruition,  but  crave  in  order 
to  give.  E.g.  One  desires  to  win  my  esteem,  not  for  his  or  its  own  sake, 
not  that  he  may  enjoy  it,  but  to  be  in  position  more  effectually  to  promote 
my  welfare.    Not  less,  but  the  more,  does  he  win  and  enjoy  it. 


308  DESIRE. 

end,  interest  or  selfishness  disappears ;  duty  and  love  reign 
supreme.  The  process  is  one  of  constant  self-denial  or  self- 
sacrifice,  and  character  and  conduct  are  purified  and  perfected 
in  the  realization  of  absolute  unselfishness. 

§  267.  The  moral  impulse  is  conditioned  on  cognition  in  a 
special  manner.  The  moral  law  is  an  objective  imperative 
discerned  intuitively  by  pure  reason  as  of  universal  and 
supreme  obligation.  Its  authority  is  directed  to  the  will  of 
every  person,  commanding  riglit  action.  But  as  the  will  is 
conditioned  on  desire,  the  behest  of  the  moral  law  would 
be  inoperative  and  idle,  were  there  not  in  every  person  a 
desire,  however  weak,  to  do  right,  that  is,  to  obey  the  law. 
Thus  the  moral  impulse  complements  and  is  conditioned  on 
the  intuitively  cognized  moral  law. 

In  popular  usage,  the  term  conscience  is  applied  to  any 
and  every  mental  exercise  connected  with  our  moral  conduct. 
In  scientific  use,  the  term  is  limited  by  definition  to  the  moral 
exercise  of  some  one  faculty,  either  of  thought,  feeling,  or 
desire.  We  follow  Kant  in  applying  it  exclusively  to  the 
source  and  condition  of  all  morality,  and  define  accordingly : 
Conscience  is  pure  reason  discerning  moral  law.  In  this 
view,  the  moral  impulse  is  not  conscience,  nor  is  moral  senti- 
ment, nor  moral  judgment,  nor  righteous  choice ;  but  all 
these  are  conditioned  on  and  consequent  upon  conscience, 
the  discernment  by  pure  intuition  of  a  primary  truth  in  the 
form  of  law.  These  considerations  have  led  us  to  the  very 
threshold  of  Ethics. 


PART  SIXTH. 

VOLITION. 

CHAPTER  I. 

ITS    RELATIONS. 

§  268.  The  fourth  and  last  of  the  generic  powers,  complet- 
hig  the  mental  cycle,  is  volition  or  will.^  It  is  defined  as  the 
objective  conation  ;  the  faculty  or  activity  in  whose  exercise 
mind  chooses  between  alternative  actions  conceived  as  pos- 
sible, and  strives  accordingly  to  modify  its  own  state  merely, 
or  to  superinduce  muscular  movement.  It  is  the  function  of 
the  ego  to  determine  the  time,  manner,  and  measure  of  the 
activity,  mental  and  physical.  Not  that  it  must,  but  only 
that  it  may  do  so.  Activities,  spontaneous  and  instinctive, 
occur  without  such  determination.^ 

1  See  §  71.     The  circuit  is  in  the  order  of  condition  and  conditioned  (§  81). 

2  See  §  52,  note.  The  distinction  is  merely  between  the  active  ego  and 
its  activity.  It  is  self-determining.  Kant  says  of  man  that  his  will  is  his 
very  self  ;  it  lies  in  bis  innermost  nature  ;  it  is  his  primary  essence,  and  may 
be  most  nearly  identified  with  the  ego. 

A  person  (see  the  curious  origin  and  etymology  of  the  word)  is  sometimes 
deiiued  as  an  intelligent  being  capable  of  self-determination.  This  is  insuffi- 
cient. We  should  add  :  and  consciously  subject  to  moral  law.  As  conscious 
subjection  to  law  implies  both  intelligence  and  power  of  self-determination 
as  conditions,  these  may  be  omitted,  and  the  definition  stated  thus:  A 
person  is  a  being  conscious  of  obligation.  But  this  is  true  only  of  the  imper- 
fect person  ;  he  only  is  under  law.  A  perfect  person  is  a  being  conscious  of 
holiness.  The  conception  of  Deity  is  that  of  a  perfectly  harmonious  person- 
ality infinitated. 

309 


310  VOLITION. 

Volition  or  will  is,  like  cognition,  an  objective  faculty  in 
that  it  is  immediately  related  to  an  object.  The  object  of 
cognition  is  a  fact,  something  to  be  known ;  the  object  of 
volition  is  an  act,  something  to  be  done.  Thus  attention  in 
cognition  corresponds  to  intention  in  volition.  The  normal 
aim  of  cognition  is  truth ;  the  normal  aim  of  volition  is  duty. 
The  opposites  are  error  and  wrong.  Logic  states  the  laws 
of  thought,  and  the  subjective  result  of  their  observance  is 
knowledge.  Ethics  states  the  laws  of  conduct,  and  the  sub- 
jective result  of  their  observance  is  virtue.^ 

§  269.  Besides  the  foregoing  contrasts,  volition  or  will 
bears  a  double  relation  to  cognition.  It  is  superior  to  cogni- 
tion as  controlling  it ;  inferior  as  dependent  on  it  for  intelli- 
gent guidance. 

For  any  and  every  action,  external  or  internal,  will  is  de- 
pendent or  conditioned  on  practical  imagination,  which  as  a 
necessary  antecedent  represents  by  anticipation  the  act  to  be 
done  (§  202),  For  every  judicious  action  it  is  also  depend- 
ent on  a  logical  judgment,  and  in  case  of  a  means  to  an  end, 
on  the  teleological  judgment.  For  every  moral  action  it  is 
furthermore  dependent  on  the  intuition  of  moral  law,  which 
furnishes  the  major  premise  from  which  are  deduced  the 
specific  actions  requisite  in  doing  duty.  Thus  intelligence 
guides  volition  .2 

Volition  controls  cognition  in  the  determination  of  atten- 

1  Propositions,  the  expression  of  cognition,  are  true  or  false  ;  actions,  the 
expression  of  volition,  are  right  or  wrong.  The  violation  of  logical  law  is 
error ;  the  violation  of  ethical  law  is  sin.  I  cannot  believe  seeming  error,  nor 
desire  seeming  evil.  Truth  and  right  are  natural  ends,  but  I  may  carelessly 
or  ignorantly  disregard  either,  and  so  incur  its  opposite.  In  this  sense  only 
can  logical  law  be  violated  ;  but  ethical  law  may  be  knowingly  and  wilfully 
violated,  since,  unlike  logical  law,  it  implies  a  choice  between  possible 
alternatives,  one  right,  the  other  wrong. 

'  Pure  reason  is  legislative  ;  it  discovers  and  propounds  law.  Thought  is 
judicial  ;  it  interprets  and  applies  law.  Will  is  executive  of  the  behests  of 
law.  Thus  we  find,  original  in  the  essence  of  human  nature,  the  approved 
functions  of  the  Departments  of  State. 


ITS   RELATIONS.  311 

tion.  That  is  to  say,  I  am  able  to  concentrate  my  cognitive 
consciousness  on  an  object,  now  on  this,  now  on  that.  I  do 
so  at  will,  and  by  the  power  of  will  (§§  87,  89).  By  this 
means  memory  recalls  (§  188),  imagination  constructs  (§  197), 
and  thought  abstracts  and  elaborates  (§  205).  This  deter- 
mination of  attention  is  the  special  function  of  will,  and  it  is 
important  to  observe  that  it  has  no  other  direct  controlling 
power,  which  is  to  say,  it  immediately  or  directly  controls 
cognitive  exercise  by  determining  attention,  and  that  what- 
ever controlling  influence  it  has  over  other  activities  is  mediate 
and  indirect,  the  medium  being  attention  (§  229). 

§  270.  According  to  what  has  just  been  said,  volition  bears 
no  direct  relation  to  the  feelings.  It  is  conditioned  on  them 
only  remotely  through  the  desires.  It  controls  them  only 
indirectly  by  giving  or  refusing  attention  to  the  objects  which 
excite  the  feelings.  The  feeling,  however,  may  persist  for  a 
time  after  abstraction  from  the  object,  owing  to  physical  diffu- 
sion (§  230). 

Volition  is  directly  conditioned  on  desire,  which  furnishes 
motive  to  choice,  and  efficient  cause  to  the  subsequent  effort 
(§  257).  The  volitional  control  of  desire,  like  that  of  feel- 
ing, is  indirect,  and  through  or  by  means  of  attention  trans- 
ferred to  or  from  desired  objects  of  cognition.  A  complete 
withdrawal  of  consciousness  from  a  desired  object  at  once 
determines  the  complete  cessation  of  the  desire.  The  resist- 
ance to  be  overcome  is  due  mainly  and  is  proportional  to  the 
intensity  of  the  desire,  and  can  be  counteracted  only  by  virtue 
of  some  other  desire  with  wdiich  the  will  accords. 

§  271.  Our  experience  in  first  apprehending  an  object  is 
the  product  of  our  constitution  and  environment,  and  not 
voluntary.  Also  it  is  true  that  will  can  neither  cause  nor 
inhibit  the  rise  of  either  a  feeliner  or  a  desire.  In  their  in- 
cipience  they  too  are  spontaneous  and  involuntary.  But  the 
continuance,  or  the  increase,  or  the  diminution  and  termina- 


312  VOLITION. 

tion  of  the  conceptions,  feelings,  and  dispositions  attendant 
on  an  object  are  under  control  according  as  attention  is  be- 
stowed on  the  object,  or  withdrawn  by  concentrating  on 
another.     This  is  subjective  control. 

Objective  control,  or  the  control  of  the  voluntary  muscles, 
is  more  obscure.  Commonly  it  is  understood  that  the  will 
acts  immediately  on  the  motor  brain  centres,  and  that  through 
the  motor  nerve  connections  the  muscular  contraction  or  re- 
laxation is  produced.  But  we  always  represent  what  we 
intend  to  do  before  doing  it.  Indeed,  this  is  essential  to 
every  intelligent  voluntary  act  (§  202). ^  Now  as  there  is 
necessarily  an  antecedent  mental  image  of  the  movement,  on 
which  idea  attention  more  or  less  intense  is  bestowed,  it 
would  seem  that  here  also  the  direct  exercise  of  will  is  to 
give  attention,  and  that  the  physical  movement  is  mediately 
j^roduced.  But  the  nexus  of  the  mental  effort  and  the  sub- 
sequent physical  change  is  unknown.  The  action  passes 
beyond  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  and  reappears  in  the 
sphere  of  observation. 

1  See  especially  the  note,  on  the  impulse  to  realize  an  idea.  On  voluntary 
locomotion,  see  §  105.  The  view  here  taken  of  objective  control,  that  atten- 
tion to  the  idea  of  the  physical  action  is  the  immediate  act,  and  that  the 
physical  action  itself  is  remote,  is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  should  the  latter 
fail  entirely  {e.g.  through  unknown  paralysis),  the  volition  or  action  of  the 
will  is  nevertheless  complete  (§  275). 


ITS  ELEMENTS.  313 


CHAPTER   II. 

ITS    ELEMENTS. 

§  272.  An  analysis  of  an  exercise  of  volition  discovers  five 
essential  facts,  which  seem  to  be  ultimate,  as  follows :  — 

First:  The  idea  of  something  to  be  done,  of  an  act  in  order 
to  an  end.  The  act  is  conceived  by  the  agent  as  possible,  the 
end  desirable ;  e.g.  making  a  bargain,  or  suppressing  anger. 
This  is  an  exercise  of  cognitive  intelligence  by  means  of 
attention.^ 

Second:  An  impulse  urging  the  action.  Conflicting  im- 
pulses may  co-exist.  The  one  that  prevails,  or  that  with 
which  the  volition  finally  accords,  is  called  the  motive.  This 
is  an  exercise  of  desire.^ 

The  idea  of  an  act  and  end,  and  the  impulsion  of  the 
motive,  are  not  elements  of  volition,  but  are  necessary  ante- 
cedents or  conditions  of  its  exercise. 

Third:  A  preference  of  the  conscious  ego  for  one  line  of 
action  rather  than  another,  or  for  non-action.  This  is  the 
exercise  of  choice  or  election. 

Fourth :  Intention,  or  the  resolution  upon  choice  to  do  this 
or  that  action,  either  instantly  or  in  due  time,  according  to 
opportunity. 

Fifth:  A  nisus  or  striving  to  effectuate  the  choice,  con- 
straining a  change  of  mental  state  only,  or  superinducing 

1  The  act  is  properly  the  object  of  volition  ;  the  end  is  not  properly  the 
object,  though  often  so  called.  In  order  to  the  effort  the  act  must  be  con- 
ceived as  possible  ;  e.g.  a  sane  man  cannot  try  to  fly.  In  the  healing  of  the 
withered  hand  (Mark  8  :  1-5)  the  effort  showed  faith. 

2  The  end  is  sometimes  but  improperly  called  the  motive.  We  should 
clearly  distinguish  motive  from  final  cause. 


314  VOLITION. 

muscular  motion.      It  is  expressed  by:  I  try.      This  is  the 
voluntary  effort. 

Choice,  intention,  and  effort  are  the  elements  of  volition.^ 

§  273.  Choice  or  election  is  a  phenomenon  sui  generis^  dis- 
coverable only  within  the  domain  of  consciousness,  and  hav- 
ing no  analogue  in  the  material  universe.^  There  are  two 
special  conditions  precedent,  corresponding  to  the  general 
conditions  of  volition  already  cited.     These  are  :  — 

First :  Alternativity  of  possible  actions,  implying  indepen- 
dence of  objective  control  or  causation.-^ 

^  The  schoolmen  distixiguished  three  movements  of  will  circa  finem,  —  vel- 
leity,  intention,  fruition.  Also  three  movements  circa  media,  —  consent  or 
the  approving  the  means,  election  or  the  choosing  the  fittest,  and  application 
or  the  using  that  elected. 

2  Motives  in  their  influence  upon  choice  have  been  likened  to  weights  in  a 
balance.  See  Leibnitz  in  Letters  between  L.  and  Clarke,  pp.  157  and  165  ; 
Bayle's  Dictionaire,  ad  verb  ;  Edwards  on  Frcedum  of  the  Will ;  and  Thum- 
mig,  quoted  by  Hamilton  in  Held,  pp.  610,  611,  note.  The  illustration  does 
not  illustrate.  It  is  misleading  and  false.  The  movement  of  a  balance  by  a 
weight  is  a  case  of  rigid  causation.  There  is  no  alternative.  The  necessity 
is  strict,  absolute.  Therefore,  instead  of  likeness,  there  is  extreme  contrast, 
contrariety,  in  contradiction  of  the  very  essence  of  choice  (if  there  be  any 
such  thing)  which  is  liberty.     It  is  "  Hobson's  choice."  —  Spectator,  No.  509. 

Intelligence  may  fairly  be  likened  to  a  balance,  and  reasons  to  the  weights. 
Intellect  deliberates  (from  de  and  librare.  to  weigh,  from  libra,  a  balance). 
It  weighs  the  facts  and  the  reasons  with  a  view  to  choice  or  decision.  But 
in  using  this  metaphor  we  should  be  careful  to  observe  that  weights  are 
causes  or  forces  necessitating,  whereas  reasons  are  not  at  all  causes  or  forces, 
and  do  not  (except  in  case  of  rigid  demonstration)  necessitate  the  resulting 
judgment  according  to  any  fixed  law. 

='  The  outward  action  may  be  restrained  or  constrained.  This,  in  legal 
phrase,  is  "positive  duress."  A  man  may  be  tied  hand  and  foot,  and  so 
restrained  from  doing  his  will.  See  John  21 :  18.  Or  he  may  be  overmas- 
tered, and  so  constrained  to  do  what  he  would  not.  E.g.  in  taking  prisoners 
during  our  war,  a  revolver  well  aimed  was  called  jocosely  "a  persuader." 
But  the  subjective  volition  cannot  be  reached.  There  is  a  vulgar  saying  that 
"anybody  can  lead  a  horse  to  water,  but  all  the  world  cannot  make  him 
drink."  It  contains  a  profound  truth.  The  complete  isolation  of  each  will 
from  every  other  is  well  wortliy  of  note.  There  is  only  one  Being  in  the 
universe  who  can  determine  my  will,  and  to  do  so  would  be  destructive  of 
His  gift  of  liberty. 


ITS   ELEMENTS.  315 

Second :  An  equal  plurality  of  impulses,  counter-checking 
and  restraining  each  other  until  a  conclusion  is  reached,  and 
the  choice  made. 

Over  these  conditions  precedent,  deliberative  intelligence 
presides.  It  considers  the  alternatives,  and  gives  judgment 
in  favor  of  one  rather  than  another,  but  does  not  necessarily 
determine  the  election.  It  is  influenced,  but  not  determined 
by  the  impulses.  Its  procedure  is  logical,  ascertaining  what 
is  right,  true,  best,  and  therefore  most  desirable  among  the 
impelled  actions.  The  choice  made  does  not  always  corre- 
spond with  the  judgment  rendered.  That  it  do  so  is  normal 
and  natural,  but  not  necessary  or  invariable.  For  example, 
shall  I  go  or  stay  ?  There  may  be  many  good  reasons  why 
I  should  stay,  as  my  ease,  my  profit,  my  duty,  and  accordingly 
I  judge  it  best  to  stay.  But  curiosity,  perhaps,  urges  me  to 
go,  and  so  despite  my  judgment  I  choose  to  go.  Familiar 
experience  of  this  sort  shows  that  the  judgment  and  the 
choice  are  distinct,  and  that  the  one  does  not  strictly  deter- 
mine the  other. 

Choice  or  election,  let  us  repeat,  is  largely  independent ; 
yet  not  entirely  of  judgment,  which  presumes  to  dictate  it ; 
nor  of  an  impelling  desire,  which  conditions  it;  but,  being 
variously  conditioned,  it  is  free,  at  liberty  between  the  pos- 
sible alternatives.  This  is  the  essential  notion  of  choice  ;  no 
choice,  no  freedom;  no  liberty,  no  choice.  The  question 
before  us,  in  the  subsequent  chapter,  is  whether  there  be  such 
a  thing  as  choice  or  election. 

§  274.  We  have  named  intention  as  an  element  of  volition. 
Observe  the  distinction  between  choice  in  abeyance,  and 
choice  made.  In  the  former,  I  am  vacillating  under  the  in- 
fluence of  opposed  reasons  and  conflicting  desires,  and  then 
choosing ;  in  the  latter,  the  question  concerning  the  alterna- 
tives is  resolved,  that  is,  I  have  resolved,  my  resolution  is 
taken,  I  have  determined  what  to  do.  This,  the  issue  of 
choice,  or  completed  choice,  is  intention. 


316  VOLITION. 

Intention  is  static  rather  than  dynamic.  It  is  a  state  of 
mind  lying  between  clioice  and  effort,  between  election  and 
fruition.  Its  duration  is  indefinite.  The  effort  and  act  often 
follow  the  choice  without  apparent  interval,  still  we  call  them 
intentional.  But  often  also,  having  resolved  what  to  do  when 
opportunity  offers,  my  intention  may  continue  for  any  length 
of  time  awaiting  occasion.  When  this  occurs,  then,  but  not 
until  then,  the  effort  takes  place,  blindly  it  may  be,  that  is, 
without  further  deliberation,  and  the  thing  is  done.  An  act 
is  intentional  when  it  conforms  to  the  election. ^ 

§  275.  Effort  is  the  remaining  element  of  volition.  It  is 
characterized  as  a  nisus  or  striving,  and  is  the  final  and  com- 
plete expression  of  the  free  personality  or  ego.  It  is  conse- 
quent upon  and  subsequent  to  choice,  effectuates  intention, 
and  is  an  ultimate  fact  of  consciousness.^  As  choice  issues 
in  intention,  so  intention  issues  in  attention,  whose  effort  is 
the  immediate  action. 

Voluntary  effort  strives  to  produce  some  definite  change 

1  We  limit  the  term  to  the  intention  to  do  an  act.  Good  usage  speaks  also 
of  the  intention  with  which  it  is  done,  i.e.  the  purpose  of  the  agent.  This 
generally  is  its  legal  sense.  —  See  Austin's  Jurisprudence,  Lee.  19  sq. 

It  is  a  common  doctrine  in  Ethics  that  moral  quality  lies  wholly  in  the 
intention.  But  are  we  not  told :  Thou  shalt  not  covet ;  and  is  it  not  wrong 
to  deliberate  between  right  and  wi'ong  ? 

The  old  nuuldle  about  the  proper  use  of  the  words  shall  and  icill  has  hardly 
been  cleared  up.  It  may  prove  helpful  to  point  out  that  at  bottom  viU  is 
active,  shall  passive.  E.g.  "  I  will  go  to-morrow,"  is  an  immediate  expres- 
sion of  my  subjective  activity  in  the  choice  or  decision.  Afterward  my  inten- 
tion, under  which  I  am  passive,  is  expressed  by:  "I  shall  go  to-morrow." 
This  principle  solves  many  of  the  perplexities  clearly.  But  see  the  tractate 
On  Shall  and  Will,  by  Sir  Francis  Head. 

■■^  In  the  consciousness  of  effort  or  strain,  we  have  experience  of  cause 
producing  effect.  In  no  other  case  have  we  direct  knowledge  of  the  nexus 
of  cause  and  effect.  In  the  sphere  of  observation  we  liave  only  succession 
of  phenonu'ua;  but  because  of  our  experience  of  power  in  tlie  effort  causing 
change,  we  attribute  to  unconditional  antecedents  generally  a  producing 
power.  See  Mansel's  Meta.,  p.  2.30  sq. ;  and  Calderwood's  Moral  Vliil., 
J).  184  sq.  (viX.  of  187l*)  for  di.scussion  aud  authorities ^r«  and  contra. 


ITS  ELEMENTS.  317 

of  mental  state  only,  or  to  superinduce  muscular  movement.^ 
Neither  result  may  be  attained,  but  in  the  effort  the  sub- 
jective voluntary  action  is  complete,  though  the  proposed 
consequents  be  imperfect  or  entirely  null. 

1  The  immediate  cause  of  the  effort  is  not  the  precedent  choice,  nor  the 
intention,  but  that  impelling  desire  which  hy  choice  has  now  become  the 
motive  (§§  257,  272). 

It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  reasons  are  not  causes  or  forces 
(§  273,  note).  Desires,  however,  are  causes  or  forces.  But  we  must  beware 
of  mechanical  notions,  especially  in  view  of  the  terms  having  a  mechanical 
origin  which  are  used  to  express  this  efficacy,  as  impulse,  tension,  etc.  Con- 
flicting desires  do  not  neutralize  each  other  ;  they  do  not  disappear  like  oppo- 
site pressures  ;  they  are  merely  a  mutual  restraint  until  a  preference  is  allowed. 
When  one  thus  becomes  a  motive  causing  the  effort,  it  is  not  at  all,  as  in 
mechanics,  a  composite  resultant  of  the  several  forces,  a  sort  of  mental 
diagonal,  but  all  others  losing  efficacy,  the  one,  the  motive  of  the  effort  and 
act,  exerts  its  full  energy.  This  is  clearly  manifest  in  persons  having  marked 
decision  of  character. 


318  VOLITION. 


CHAPTER   III. 


ITS    FREEDOM. 


§  276.  In  respect  of  the  exercise  of  volition  there  are  two 
opposed  doctrines,  that  of  liberty  and  that  of  necessity,  with 
modifications  of  each. 

Strict  necessity  is  fatalism.  This  extreme  doctrine  philos- 
ophers of  the  necessitarian  school  generally  reject.  Some 
would  prefer  that  their  doctrine  should  be  called  determin- 
ism.i  They  do  not  wholly  deny  freedom,  but  they  give  it 
a  special  definition.  They  say  the  will  is  free  when  acting 
according  to  its  nature,  and  that  it  is  its  nature  to  be  deter- 
mined by  desires.  Every  scheme  of  necessity  or  determinism 
represents  desires  as  controlling  the  will,  and  voluntaiy  acts 
as  effects  which  follow  from  their  mental  causes  as  certainly 
and  invariably  as  physical  effects  follow  physical  causes. 

The  opposed  libertarian  doctrine  presents  a  greater  variety 
of  modes.  In  general,  however,  it  allows  that  desires  influ- 
ence the  will,  but  denies  the  determination.  It  exhibits  the 
will  as  controlling  the  other  faculties,  including  desires,  which 
solicit  and  impel,  but  do  not  compel.  Desires  are  merely 
occasions,  not  causes  of  volition.  The  outcome  accords  with 
the  desire  that  prevails,  but  it  prevails  only  by  permission. 
Thus  the  doctrine  represents  the  will  as  controlling  desire, 
and  not  desire  as  determining  the  will. 

§  277.    Am  I  free  ?     The  question  is  very  old ;    it  is  the 

1  Fatalism  is  a  Mohammedan  doctrine.  On  determinism,  i.e.  that  will 
always  is  according  to  its  antecedents,  not  that  it  must  be,  which  is  necessity, 
see  Mill's  Logic,  bk.  vi,  ch.  2,  and  Ex.  of  Hamilton,  ch.  20. 


ITS  FREEDOM.  319 

problem  of  the  ages,  says  Hume.^  Its  solution  has  engaged 
the  attention  of  the  best  thinkers  the  world  has  known,  and 
upon  it  a  vast  literature  has  accumulated.  Yet  it  is  a  prob- 
lem unsolved,  and  seemingly  hopeless.  An  apology,  then,  is 
needed  for  even  the  humblest  attempt  to  throw  light  upon  it. 
The  apology  is  in  its  importance. 

Who,  or  rather  what  am  I,. if  not  free  ?  I  am  not  a  person, 
but  merely  a  thing.  If  not  free,  I  originate  nothing ;  I  am 
not  the  beginning,  nor  indeed  the  end  of  anything,  but  a 
mere  channel.  In  that  case,  too,  I  am  active  only  in  the 
sense  that  a  rolling  stone  or  a  climbing  vine  is  active  ;  strictly 
speaking,  I  am  wholly  passive,  tossed  about  as  the  winds  may 
blow.  I  am  not  a  creator,  but  a  creature  of  circumstances. 
My  conceptions  are  impressed  upon  me,  my  knowledge  is  not 
acquired  but  given,  my  emotions  are  tides,  my  impulses  mere 
transmissions. 

Kant  names  the  doctrine  of  freedom  as  one  of  the  three 
great  ends  of  philosophy.  Does  it  not,,  in  an  important 
sense,  lie  at  the  beginning  of  all  philosophy  ?  For  unless  I 
be  free,  there  is  no  pliilosophy.  A  power  to  discriminate  the 
true  and  false  is  not  enough ;  there  must  also  be  ability  to 
choose  and  use  the  true  rather  than  the  false.  Unless  there 
be  this  power  of  intelligent  choice,  there  can  be  no  search 
after  truth ;  for  search  implies  freedom.  Anything,  then, 
beyond  barren  rudiments  of  knowledge  is  impossible,  and  all 
science,  all  philosophy  is  an  idle  dream. ^ 

Moreover,  freedom  is  the  postulate  of  ethics.  Unless  I  be 
free,  there  is  for  me  no  right  and  wrong,  no  duty,  no  obliga- 
tion, no  responsibility,  no  morality  or  virtue,  no  sin  or  crime, 

1  "  The  most  contentious  question  of  metaphysics,  the  most  contentious 
science:'' —  Human  Understanding,  §  8.  From  the  day  of  Pelagius  the 
controversy  has  never  ceased. 

2  "  The  freedom  of  the  will  is  so  far  from  being,  as  it  is  generally  consid- 
ered, a  controvertible  question  of  philosophy,  that  it  is  the  fundamental 
postulate  without  which  all  action  and  all  speculation,  philosophy  in  all  its 
branches,  and  human  consciousness  itself,  would  be  impossible."  —  Mansel, 
Meta.,  p.  320. 


820  VOLITION. 

no  good  or  ill  desert ;    conscience  is  a  chimera,  religion  a 
delusion,  and  Deity  a  myth.^ 

A  question  whose  answer  involves  the  answers  to  so  many 
momentous  questions,  touching  all  that  is  noble  and  most 
cherished  in  ourselves  and  in  our  relations  to  others,  is  one 
that  cannot  be  dismissed.  It  obtrudes  on  every  thoughtful 
mind ;  it  will  not  down.  If  we  would  establish  our  claim  to 
the  dignity  of  personality,  it  must  be  answered.  If  we  would 
have  a  through-going  philosophy,  it  must  be  answered.  If 
we  would  have  a  theory  of  morals  to  guide  our  conduct,  it 
must  be  answered.  One  may  be  pardoned,  then,  for  asking, 
"  Am  I  free  ?  "  and  venturing  to  think  about  it.  Let  us  think 
closely,  moving  slowly  and  carefully  where  so  many  have 
lost  the  way,  assured  that  a  single  step  in  the  right  direction 
will  be  of  value,  and  well  worth  our  pains. 

§  278.  An  objection  to  our  procedure  might,  perhaps,  be 
raised  at  the  outset.  Has  it  not  just  been  said  that  all  search 
after  truth  implies  freedom?  If  so,  then  your  proposed 
search  concerning  freedom  must  presuppose  it,  and  the  at- 
tempt begs  the  question. 

The  answer  is  easy.  The  logical  presumption,  as  we  shall 
immediately  show,  is  decidedly  in  favor  of  liberty.  The 
question  is  philosophical,  tlie  doubt  is  formal  and  speculative, 
not  at  all  actual  and  practical,  and  occurs  only  in  construct- 
ing a  philosophical  system.  When  the  question  arises,  the 
libertarian,  having  the  presumption,  is  not  chargeable  with 
petition  in  assuming  the  I'cality  of  libert}^  and  proceeding 
upon  this,  as  the  condition  of  all  investigation,  to  examine 
its  logical  grounds. 

The  objection  may,  however,  be  retorted  fairly  upon  the 

1  "The  only  lihorty  that  T  care  a  straw  for,"  says  Mr  Huxley,  "is  the 
liberty  or  freedom  to  do  rigiil.  As  for  the  freedom  to  do  wroiij;,  anybody  is 
welcome  to  deprive  me  of  that  as  completely  as  possible."  This  surely  was 
meant  for  a  serious  jest,  t'oi' it  is  a  self-contradiction,  a  Imll.  In  order  that 
ciuiduct  ho  morally  ri.^ht,  wrnni;-  must  be  possible. 


ITS  FREEDOM.  321 

advocate  of  necessity.  If  the  search  after  truth  imply  lib- 
erty, then  you  that  deny  liberty  can  support  your  denial  only 
by  virtue  of  the  reality  of  this  prior  condition.  You  tacitly 
claim  to  be  free  in  the  attempt  to  disprove  freedom.  In 
denying  it,  you  assume  it.  Your  proffered  argument,  then, 
is  an  essential  self-contradiction,  absurd  in  the  very  under- 
taking, ah  initio  null,  whatever  be  its  content. 

§  279.  It  is  a  significant  fact,  admitted  by  all  parties,  that 
every  man  practically  believes  in  the  freedom  of  his  own  will, 
and  consequently  in  that  of  all  other  men.  The  conviction 
is  deep-seated,  immovable,  and  universal,  and  is  the  under- 
lying basis  of  all  human  conduct,  individual,  social,  and 
political.  This  gives  a  clear  logical  presumption  in  favor  of 
the  reality  of  libert}',  and  justifies  speculation  concerning  it. 

The  necessitarian  pronounces  the  common  conviction  of 
men  in  this  matter  a  delusion.  The  burden  of  proof,  then, 
lies  in  the  first  instance  on  the  advocate  of  necessity,  and 
until  his  argument  is  fairly  elaborated,  there  is  no  occasion 
for  counter  proof.  Then  the  libertarian,  having  a  presump- 
tion so  strong  and  well  founded,  may  be  content  with  a  dis- 
proving reply  as  sufficient  to  settle  the  question  in  favor  of 
liberty. 

This  logical  situation  is  so  far  recognized  by  the  necessita- 
rian, that  at  least  he  accepts  the  omis  probamU,  and  as  the 
attacking  party,  produces  in  the  first  instance  the  reasons 
for  his  doctrine. 

§  280.  Let  us,  then,  at  once  attend  to  the  argument  for 
necessitated  or  determined  will,  in  opposition  to  its  freedom, 
stated  as  simply,  directly,  clearly,  and  cogently  as  possible  :  — 

(1)  Every  change  is  caused; 
A  volition  is  a  change ; 
.•.  A  volition  is  caused. 

But  like  causes  have  like  effects.     Hence,  whatever  is  caused 
is  determined  in  kind  and  degree,  or  necessitated  to  be  what 


322  VOLITION. 

it  is,  by  its  cause.       Taking  this  immediate   inference  as    i 
major  premise  we  have  :  — 

(2)  Whatever  is  caused  is  necessitated; 
A  volition  is  caused  ; 
.*.  A  volition  is  necessitated. 

The  first  major  premise :  Every  change  (or  event)  is 
caused,  is  an  intuitive  necessary  truth,  known  as  the  axiom 
of  change.  The  second  major  is  a  direct  inference  from  the 
intuitive  necessary  truth :  Like  causes  have  like  effects, 
known  as  the  axiom  of  uniformity  in  nature.^  The  minor 
premise  in  (2)  is  the  conclusion  of  (1).  There  remains  the 
minor  in  (1)  :  A  volition  is  a  change.  Who  will  question 
it?  So  then  this  process,  being  a  simple  and  strictly 
logical  deduction,  mainly  from  the  two  axioms  or  law  of  cau- 
sation, claims  to  be  a  close  demonstration  that  a  volition  is 
necessitated,  or  that  no  act  of  will  is  free. 

§  281.  To  the  foregoing  argument  the  advocates  of  liberty 
have  made  various  rei^lies. 

Some  blindly  cut  the  knot,  saying :  Nevertheless,  in  spite 
of  law  and  logic,  I  am  free,  for  I  am  conscious  of  liberty .^ 

1  Many  necessitarians,  especially  the  empiricists  (§§  125-6),  do  not  admit 
any  truth  to  be  intuitively  necessary  ;  nevertheless  they  hold  the  axioms 
here  named  to  be  irrefragable. 

2  "Liberty  is  the  consciousness  of  the  ability  to  decide  differently,  to  act 
differently.  The  human  will  in  the  consciousness  of  itself  is  exalted  to  the 
consciousness  of  liberty.  We  impute  to  ourselves  in  our  consciousness  liberty 
of  willing.  The  impulses  which  operate  on  our  wills  present  themselves  to 
our  consciousness  not  as  coercive  causes,  but  are  rendered  motives  by  the 
soul  itself.  Thus  our  willing  and  acting  are  to  our  consciousness  free."  — 
Ulkici. 

"  Every  man  is  conscious  of  a  power  to  determine  in  things  which  he  con- 
ceives to  depend  upon  his  determination."  —  1\eii>. 

"  The  free  agency  of  man  cannot  be  speculatively  proved,  neither  can  it 
be  speculatively  disproved  ;  but  wc  may  claim  for  it  as  a  fact  of  actual  reality, 
though  of  inconceivable  possibility,  the  testimony  of  consciousness."  "  Man 
is  conscious  of  his  liberty  to  act."  —  Hamilton. 

"I  desire  to  thrust  out  my  arm  in  open  space,  and  my  desire  is  carried 
into  effect.     Here  is  the  positive  consciousness  of  freedom.     I  try  to  thrust  it 


ITS  FREEDOM.  323 

If  this  were  shown  to  be  true,  there  is  or  ought  to  be  un  end 
of  dispute.  If  freedom  be  a  fact  of  consciousness,  then  it 
neither  needs  nor  is  capable  of  proof  or  disproof;  but  as 
original  and  certain,  given  in  our  very  nature,  it  cannot  be 
denied  (§  69).  Those  who  take  this  high  ground,  however, 
are  usually  not  content  to  rest  there,  but  descend  from  it  and 
enter  with  zeal  into  the  controversy,  thereby  betraying  a  lack 
of  confidence  in  their  claim. 

And  indeed  the  claim  cannot  be  admitted,  the  statement 
is  not  true.  I  am  conscious  of  a  deep  and  ineradicable  con- 
viction that  I  am  free,  but  consciousness  of  a  belief  is  easily 
and  should  be  clearly  distinguished  from  a  consciousness  of 
the  object,  of  the  liberty.  The  notion  of  liberty  is  a  pure 
essential  negative,  the  absence  of  constraint.^  Now  I  cannot 
be  conscious  of  the  absence  of  a  thing,  but  only  unconscious 
of  its  presence  (§  62).  This  unconsciousness  of  constraint 
proves  nothing.  Moreover,  it  is  conceivable  that  constraint 
may  unconsciously  exist,  I  being  determined  by  causes,  as  the 
necessitarian  affirms,  while  under  a  delusion  that  I  am  free. 
But  the  conceivable  possibility  of  delusion  shows  that  this  is 
not  a  fact  of  consciousness  (§  69). 

Let  us  scrutinize  the  point  yet  more  closely.     I  represent 

through  a  wall  and  am  resisted.  Here  is  the  positive  consciousness  of  coer- 
cion. The  idea  of  freedom  is  as  positive  as  tliat  of  restraint,  both  being,  at 
different  times,  presented  in  actual  consciousness."  —  Mansel. 

"The  almost  overwhelming  proof  [of  necessity]  seems,  however,  more 
than  balanced  by  a  single  argument  on  the  other  side  —  the  immediate  affirma- 
tion of  consciousness  in  the  moment  of  deliberate  volition.  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  think  at  such  a  moment  that  my  volition  is  completely  determined 
by  my  formed  character,  and  the  motives  acting  upon  it.  The  opjiosite 
conviction  is  so  strong  as  to  be  absolutely  unshaken  by  the  evidence 
brought  against  it.  .  .  .     Let  us  scrutinize  this  consciousness  of  freedom."  — 

SlDGWICK. 

1  "The  conception  of  liberty  is  properly  negative,  as  the  substance  of  the 
conception  is  nothing  more  than  the  denial  of  causal  necessity.  We  think 
simply  the  absence  of  all  that  hinders  and  limits."  —  Schopenhauer.  So 
also  Kant  in  Bechtslehre,  p.  28  (ed.  S.  und  R.),  and  Flchte  in  Kritik  aller 
Off(')ihari(7ig,  §  2,  describe  freedom  as  merely  an  absence  of  the  feeling  of 
compulsion.     See  §  251. 


324  VOLITION. 

to  myself  two  contrary  courses,  seemingly  possible  alterna- 
tives. I  think  and  believe  I  can  elect  either.  I  am  conscious 
of  this  judgment  and  conviction,  but  not  of  the  ability,  the 
power  itself.  Can  is  potential;  the  supposed  election,  if 
ever  made,  is  future,  is  not  yet  existent,  and  so  is  not  a  fact 
of  consciousness  (§  60).  Having  decided  which  to  take,  I 
am  not  conscious  that  I  could  have  chosen  the  other,  for  the 
act  is  past;  is  no  longer  existent  (§  61).^  While  actually 
and  now  deciding  for  this  course  rather  than  that,  evidently 
I  am. not  conscious  I  might  be  choosing  otherwise,  since  it, 
too,  is  non-existent.2  Therefore,  "the  power  of  contrary 
choice  "  (a  famous  phrase,  which  taken  strictly  is  in  itself 
absurd)  is  not,  on  any  interpretation,  a  fact  of  consciousness. 

§  282.  Other  libertarians  cut  the  knot  openly.  Allowing 
the  law  of  causation  to  be  positive  dictum  of  intelligence, 
they  find  themselves  compelled,  in  order  to  escape  the  conse- 
quences of  this  doctrine,  to  deny  that  the  law,  though  uni- 
versal in  form,  should  be  allowed  as  universal  in  fact. 
Admitting  its  application  to  other  mental  modes,  they  would 
exempt  volition.  They  hold  volition  to  be  a  cause  that  is 
not  an  effect,  an  uncaused  cause,  a  free  cause,  an  absolute 
beginning,  a  power  of  absolute  origination.  This  they  grant 
is  wholly  inconceivable  ;  that  by  a  necessity  of  thought  every 
so-called  origination  is  only  an  apparent,  not  a  real,  com- 
mencement; that  we  cannot  conceive  an  absolute  beginning; 
that  we  cannot,  therefore,  conceive  a  free  volition.  Never- 
theless, volition  is  free.^ 

1  "  In  the  idea  that  instead  of  the  prevailinc;  impulse  another  might  liave 
determined  the  will  lies  the  consciousness  of  lilKTty."  —  Windt. 

2  "  Telle  est  la  nature  de  ma  voluntfi  qu'en  faisant  une  chose  elle  a  la 
conscience  de  pouvior  faire  le  contraire."  — Cousin. 

8  "  Will  is  that  kind  of  causality  attributed  to  living  agents,  in  so  far  as 
they  are  possessed  of  reason  ;  and  freedom  is  such  a  property  of  that  causal- 
ity as  enables  them  to  originate  events  independently  of  foreign  causes  deter- 
mining it We  can  tliink  of  but  two  kinds  of  causality  with  respect  to 

that  which  happens,  —  causality  according  to  nature,  and  causality  derived 


ITS  FREEDOM.  325 

Upon  what  ground  they  thus  subordinate  the  law  of  causa- 
tion to  the  doctrine  of  liberty  does  not  appear.  To  derogate, 
in  the  interest  of  the  latter,  from  the  strict  universality  of 
the  former,  seems  quite  arbitrary,  a  rather  violent  exercise 
of  freedom.  But  to  exempt  the  phenomena  of  volition  from 
causality  cannot  be  valid,  for  this  represents  mind  itself  as  a 
complement  of  contradictions.  Moreover,  the  law,  as  neces- 
sary axiomatic  truth,  is  essentially  and  strictly  universal,  and 
to  affirm  an  exception  to  an  axiom  is  to  affirm,  not  what  is 
merely  incomprehensible,  but  what  is  self-contradictory  and 
absurd.^ 

§  283.  Another  proposed  escape  from  the  grip  of  the  logic 
of  necessity  admits  that  mental  states  are  caused,  but  insists 
that  the  law  is  modified  in  its  application  to  mental  phe- 
nomena, more  particularly  to  volition.  We  are  told  that 
while  causation  operates  both  in  the  sphere  of  matter  and  of 
mind  with  certainty  and  unvarying  uniformity,  yet  in  its 
mode  of  exercise  in  the  two  spheres  there  is  a  wide  difference. 
In  this  difference  is  discovered  a  modification  of  the  law,  and 
such  a  modification  as  provides  for  freedom.^ 

from  liberty.  By  liberty  I  understand  the  ability  to  originate  of  our- 
selves. .  .  .  Reason  gives  the  idea  of  a  spontaneity  which  can  of  itself  begin 
to  act,  without  needing  the  precedence  of  any  other  cause  to  determine  it  to 
action  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  causal  connection.  On  this  transcen- 
dental idea  of  liberty  is  grounded  the  practical  notion  of  it,  and  the  transcen- 
dental creates  in  the  practical  that  precise  element  of  difficulty  which  has 
always  surrounded  the  question  whether  liberty  is  possible."  —  Kaxt. 

1  "  A  free  will  would  then  be  one  which  is  not  determined  by  grounds,  is 
consequently  determined  by  nothing  whatever,  and  whose  individual  acts 
originate  in  itself  absolutely  and  in  a  completely  original  way.  But  all 
clear  thinking  is  quenched  by  this  conception,  the  conception  of  the  liherum 
arbitrium  indifferentice,  and  yet  this  is  the  only  clearly  defined,  fixed,  and 
decided  conception  of  what  is  styled  liberty  of  will.  To  maintain  that  to  a 
particular  man,  in  a  particular  set  of  circumstances,  two  conflicting  modes 
of  acting  are  possible  is  perfectly  absurd."  — Schopenhauer. 

2  "  It  has  been  tacitly  assumed  that  if  the  will  is  free,  in  the  sense  of  being 
superior  to  motives,  it  must  be  so  by  superiority  to  the  law  of  causality  also, 
although  such  a  view  really  violates  the  nature  of  the  problem,  and  that  to 


326  VOLITION. 

I  would  be  glad  to  see  a  statement  of  the  law  in  its  modi- 
fied form.  I  must  confess  I  do  not  understand  what  may  be 
meant  by  a  modified  axiom.  One  may  be  variously  expressed, 
but  in  substance  it  is- adamant,  or  else  not  an  axiom.  Nor 
do  I  understand  any  better  what  may  be  meant  by  a  modified 
application  of  an  axiom.  Wherein  it  applies,  it  must  apply 
in  like  manner  to  all.  Within  its  sphere,  it  is  not  only  unal- 
terable but  universal,  else  it  is  not  intuitive  truth.  It  is 
freely  granted  that  mental  phenomena  are  Avidely  different 
from  physical  phenomena ;  but  do  they  not  undergo  change  ? 
Is  not  a  volition  a  change,  an  event,  something  that  happens 
or  occurs  or  takes  place?  If  so,  then  volition  is  caused. 
There  seems  no  escape  from  this  conclusion.  No  juggling 
with  words,  or  twisting  of  the  axiom  will  avail  beyond  mak- 
ing a  temporar}^  cuttle-fish  darkness. 

But  it  is  the  law  of  uniformity  especially  that  is  thought 
to  be  inapplicable  strictly  to  mind.  It  is  alleged  that  the 
exercise  of  volition  is  very  variable,  sometimes  amounting  to 
mere  caprice ;  that  while  volition  is  truly  caused,  it  is  not 
true  of  it  that  like  causes  always  produce  like  effects ;  that 
under  the  influence  of  different  circumstances  like  causes 
produce  in  volition  various  effects.  To  this  we  reply  that 
any  circumstance  which  has  any  influence  whatever  is  a  part 

the  extent  of  making  it  irrational.  For  whatever  be  the  nature  of  the  prob- 
lem, it  certainly  does  not  stand  thus  :  Is  volition  an  uncaused  event  '•  Are 
there  facts  in  consciousness  which  cannot  be  attributed  to  any  cause  ?  " 

"  The  theory  [of  necessity]  must  be  tested  by  an  examination  of  the  facts 
of  consciousness,  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  the  laws  of  exercise  applying 
to  mental  causes  or  forces.  And  when  we  thus  pass  from  the  physical  to  the 
mental,  we  at  once  recognize  a  complete  difference  in  the  laws  of  exercise 
governing  the  forces  of  the  two  spheres.  There  is  much  which  is  common  to 
both.  Effects  '  certainly  and  invariably  '  follow  their  causes  in  both  spheres. 
In  both,  causes  are  as  invariable  in  their  nature,  and  as  certain  in  their 
results.  But  there  is  an  essential  difference  between  the  mental  and  the 
physical.  There  is  in  the  mental  world  an  adjustment  of  forces,  which  is 
not  found  in  the  material  world,  except  wlicn  man  interposes  to  make  the 
adjustment.  .  .  .  There  are  facts  which  go  to  show  that  causality  in  mind 
is  not  exactly  analogous  with  causality  in  matter."  —  Caldekwoou. 


ITS  FREEDOM.  327 

of  the  cause,  and  the  varying  effect  is  due  to  variety  in  the 
cause.  If  like  causes  do  not  always  produce  like  effects, 
then  we  must  give  up  our  axiom.  Shall  we  do  so  ?  Is  it 
not  far  more  rational  to  conclude  that  the  lack  of  uniformity 
in  volition  is  only  apparent,  and  that  a  thorough  investiga- 
tion of  the  causes  affecting  it  would  bring  to  liglit  a  perfect 
uniformity  of  exercise?  Why  or  how  volition  should  be 
exempt  from  the  law  in  all  its  rigidity  and  universality  is  hard 
to  see.  In  external  nature  there  is  a  similar  apparent  lack 
of  uniformity  in  complex  cases,  but  the  physicist  proceeds 
with  unwavering  faith,  or  rather  with  clear  certainty,  upon 
the  principle  of  uniformity,  to  evolve  simplicity  out  of  com- 
plexity, and  to  reduce  multiplicity  and  variety  to  scientific 
unity.  Unless  the  same  process  be  applicable  to  human 
nature,  if  to  be  free  is  to  be  lawless,  a  science  of  mind  would 
seem  impossible. 

§  284.  There  remain  two  extreme  views  to  be  noticed. 
The  first  would  escape  the  argument  for  necessity  by  deny- 
ing that  the  law  of  causation  is  applicable  at  all  to  mental 
phenomena.  It  is  said  that  causation  belongs  to  the  material 
universe,  spontaneity  to  the  spiritual  universe.  Spontaneity 
is  described,  not  as  obscure  causation,  but  as  an  acting  from 
internal  rather  than  from  external  force,  as  a  property  which 
accounts  for  changes  arising  under  influence  perhaps,  but  not 
caused.  It  is  contrasted  Avith  uniform  play  of  fixed  law  in 
the  physical  world.  Causation  is  the  law  of  connection  be- 
tween phj^sical  facts ;  spontaneity  is  the  ground  of  connection 
between  mental  facts.  These  two  sets  of  facts  are  as  distinct 
in  their  dependencies  as  in  the  fields  in  which  they  occur, 
and  the  law  governing  the  one  is  not  to  be  transferred  to  the 
other.i 

i"All  pure  intellectual  action  is  spontaneous,  beyond  causation,  and 
ready  to  be  played  upon  by  the  will.  The  feelings,  intellectual  and  spiritual, 
are  also  spontaneous,  that  is,  referable  to  powers  of  mind  and  not  to  phys- 
ical forces.  .  .  .  The  actions  of  the  mind,  though  free,  first  through  its 
spontaneous  powers,  and  second  through  its  choices,  none  the  less  stand  in 


328  VOLITION. 

With  reference  to  this  denial  that  causation  applies  to  the 
mental  sphere,  let  us  ask:  Is  not  the  rap  of  a  gavel  the 
cause  of  attention  ?  Is  not  light  the  cause  of  vision  ?  And 
on  the  other  hand :  Is  not  grief  the  cause  of  tears  ?  Is  not 
anger  the  cause  of  strife  ?  It  would  seem  here  beyond  ques- 
tion that  a  physical  force  causes  a  mental  state ;  and  on  the 
other  hand,  that  a  mental  state  causes  physical  change. 
Causation,  then,  connects  the  two  spheres,  and  if  in  the  one 
case  a  mental  state  is  an  effect,  and  in  the  other  a  cause,  how 
can  it  be  said  that  causation  does  not  apply  to  mind  ?  Can  it 
be  true  that  causation  enters  in  upon  mind,  and  departs  from 
mind,  and  yet  does  not  apply  within  mind  ?  Does  not  the 
thought  of  St.  George  cause  me  to  think  of  the  dragon  ?  Is 
not  pleasure  a  cause  of  love ;  pain  a  cause  of  aversion  ?  If 
these  be  not  causal  relations,  I  know  not  what  to  call  them, 
or  what  law  regulates  them ;  for  the  law  of  spontaneity,  as 
distinguished  from  causation,  has  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  been 
formulated.  It  is  freely  granted  that  mental  forces  and 
physical  forces  are  very  widely  different  species,  but  they 
seem  to  be  of  the  same  genus ;  they  are  all  forces,  for  to 
their  action  are  attributed  changes,  and  that  is  the  meaning 
of  force.i     That  a  mental  impulse  causes  mental  change  is 

determinate  constitutional  relations,  and  remain  to  be  operated  under  i,lieir 
appropriate  laws.  .  .  .  There  is  order  that  is  not  causal  order,  to  wit,  thought 
order,  emotional  order.  .  .  .  "Will  is  germinant,  the  only  germinant  thing  in 
the  universe ;  all  else  is  flow.  Liberty  is  spontaneity  exercised  in  choice. 
Spontaneity  is  self-centered  power  as  opposed  to  transmitted  power.  On 
spontaneity  rests  the  potential  —  what  can  be  as  opposed  to  what  uuist 
be."  — Bascom. 

"The  human  will,  as  the  power  of  self-manifestation,  self-assertion,  and 
self-determination,  is  simply  the  highest  grade  of  that  spontaneity  which 
pertains  to  every  living  being."  —  Ulrici. 

"Personality,  the  metaphysical  ego,  possesses  a  spontaneous  originating 
force,  and  accepts  or  declines  the  motions  suggested  by  desire  or  impulse, 
substituting  for  them  its  own  autocratic  veto  or  t'o?o."  —  West.  Bev.,  -Tuly, 
1882,  p.  64. 

1  "  La  force  proprement  dite,  c'est  ce  qui  rfigit  les  actes,  sans  rfigler  les 
voluntes."  —  Comte. 


ITS    FREEDOM.  329 

hardly  less  true  than  that  a  physical  impulse  causes  physical 

cliange. 

It  should  be  observed  in  general,  and  very  suitably  in  this 
connection,  that  in  perception  an  objective  fact  is  known 
only  by  virtue  of  a  subjective  phenomenon.  The  change 
within  us  is  attributed  to  a  cause  without  us  precisely  for  the 
reason  that  we  know  the  change  must  have  had  a  cause,  and 
we  know  of  none  within  producing  it.  When  successive 
subjective  phenomena,  as  for  example  the  effects  on  me  of 
lightning  and  thunder,  seem  to  have  no  subjective  causal 
connection,  we  posit  an  objective  causal  connection  between 
the  objective  facts.  When  successive  subjective  phenomena 
seem  related  as  cause  and  effect,  we  do  not  seek  an  external 
explanation,  and  do  not  call  the  act  perception.  Hence 
mental  phenomena  are  the  primordial,  fundamental  phe- 
nomena, and  perhaps  in  strictness  the  only  plienomena. 
Subjective  changes  alone  are  known  immediately ;  all  others 
are  inferred  from  these.  It  follows  that  the  law  of  causation 
applies  originally  and  primarily  to  mind,  and  if  there  be  any 
transference  of  it,  this  does  not  take  place  from  the  physical 
to  the  mental  sphere,  but  rather  from  the  mental  to  the  physi- 
cal, and  it  is  a  law  of  mind  that  is  applied  in  explaining  the 
facts  of  the  external  world. 

§  285.  At  an  opposite  extreme  from  the  foregoing  is  the 
view  of  those  who  grant  the  causal  relation  throughout  all 
mental  activities,  and  seek  to  save  liberty  and  responsibility 
by  the  definition  that  he  is  free  who  is  not  hindered  or  pre- 
vented from  acting  according  to  his  nature.^  This  is  called 
free   agency   as    distinguished   from   free   will.      In   a   free 


1  u 


•  By  freedom  or  liberty  in  an  agent  is  meant  being  free  from  hindrance 
or  impediment  in  the  way  of  doing  or  conducting,  in  any  respect,  as  he 
^ills."_  Edwards.  Tliis  definition  is  used  also  by  some  of  the  most  rigid 
necessitarians  ;  e.g.  "By  liberty  we  can  only  mean  a  power  of  acting,  or  not 
acting,  according  to  the  determination  of  the  will."  — Hume.  "Liberty  is 
the  absence  of  all  the  impediments  to  action  that  are  not  contained  in  the 
nature  and  intrinsical  quality  of  the  agent."  —  Hobbes. 


330  VOLITION. 

agent,  desires  are  motives  which  cause  or  excite  volition. 
An  object  awakens  a  desire  which,  as  a  motive,  arouses  voli- 
tion, and  an  action  is  the  result.  When  desires  conflict,  the 
strongest  prevails.  Self-determination  is  a  conception  which 
is  self-contradictory.  Liberty  and  necessity  are  not  opposed 
to  each  other,  but  may  coexist. 

We  have  here  a  definition  of  liberty  different  from  that 
under  which  we  have  been  working.  It  is,  indeed,  justified 
by  usage.  We  say  that  the  emancipated  slave  is  free,  that 
an  unbridled  horse  is  at  liberty,  that  a  plant  grows  freely  in 
its  native  wilds,  and  that  a  machine  is  free  to  move  when  the 
stay  is  withdrawn.  That  I  am,  ordinarily,  in  this  sense,  free, 
no  one  can  deny.  It  is,  however,  a  freedom  not  from  antece- 
dent determinants,  but  from  subsequent  impediments ;  not  a 
subjective,  but  an  objective  liberty ;  a  liberty  not  found  in  the 
internal  exercise  of  the  will,  but  in  its  external  exercise,  in 
the  carrying-out  its  intent ;  a  merely  functional  liberty  which 
it  has  in  common  with  the  automaton.  Such  liberty  is 
entirely  consistent  with  causal  necessity.^ 

But  the  liberty  which  is  essential  to  j)ersonality  and 
responsibility  is  quite  another  thing.  It  is  not  the  absence 
of  restraint,  but  the  absence  of  constraint ;  not  the  absence 
of  subsequent  hindrance  or  prevention,  but  the  absence  of 
antecedent  compulsion  or  coercion.  Those  who  advocate  the 
scheme  of  free  agency  allow  causal  constraint  or  compulsion, 
and  are  content  with  functional  liberty.  They  invert  or  per- 
vert the  definition  of  liberty  as  applied  to  the  human  will ; 
for  a  free-will,  as  distinguished  from  the  bond-will  of  the 
necessitarian,  is  not  a  will  free  to  act  according  to  its  nature, 

1  Objective  freedom  is  the  absence  of  objective  preventing  cause.  Subjec- 
tive freedom  is  the  absence  of  subjective  constraining  cause. 

Tlie  compromising  sclieme  of  free  agency  fails  to  save  the  responsibility 
of  the  agent.  Liberty  to  do  what  I  intend,  or  hindrance,  may  indeed  involve 
the  re.sponsibility  of  another  who  lets,  provided  he  be  thoroughly  free  ;  but 
it  cannot  involve  mine,  since  my  act,  as  to  its  moral  quality,  i.s  complete 
subjectively  in  my  intention.  If  this  be  necessitated,  I  am  not  responsible, 
the  act  has  no  moral  quality. 


ITS  FREEDOM.  331 

that  is,  free  from  impediments  in  accomplishing  its  intent, 
but  a  will  whose  nature  it  is  to  act  freely,  that  is,  free  from 
determinants  in  forming  its  intent.  The  question  in  dispute 
is  whether,  in  this  sense,  I  am  free.  Functional  freedom  is 
granted,  of  course,  as  prerequisite  ;  but  am  I  free  from  causal 
constraint  or  determination  ?  ^ 

The  scheme  of  free  agency  is  manifestly  the  scheme  of 
necessity  in  disguise.  It  accepts  the  necessitarian  logic  as 
conclusive,  but  by  means  of  a  modified  definition  it  appropri- 
ates the  libertarian  terminology.  This  merely  verbal  inver- 
sion avails  nothing.  It  leaves  the  causal  ai'gument  for  neces- 
sity unscathed,  untouched.^ 

1  The  following  definition  of  liberty,  by  the  prince  of  modern  necessita- 
rians, is  unexceptionable  :  "  That  being  alone  can  be  called  free  which  exists 
solely  from  the  necessity  of  its  nature,  and  is  determined  by  itself  alone  to 
action." — Spixoza.  The  term  "necessity"  here  means  merely  functional 
necessity,  which  is  properly  only  a  limitation,  not  a  constraint  or  coercion. 
That  is  to  say,  every  being  in  its  normal  action  is  limited  to  the  performance 
of  its  natural  functions.  Necessity  in  this  sense  is  not  inconsistent  with 
causal  liberty,  as  shown  in  the  following:  "Absolute  liberty  consists  with 
absolute  necessity.  In  God  we  can  think  of  no  act  which  does  not  proceed 
from  the  internal  necessity  of  His  nature.  Such  an  act  also  is  the  original 
one  of  man's  self -consciousness  ;  it  is  absolutely  free,  for  it  is  determined  by 
nothing  external  to  the  ego  ;  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  for  it  proceeds  from 
the  internal  necessity  of  the  nature  of  this  ego.  .  .  .  That  only  is  free  which 
acts  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  its  own  essential  nature,  and  is  deter- 
mined by  nothing  else,  either  within  itself  or  exterior  to  itself.  Hence  the 
individual  act  is  the  result  of  the  free  essential  nature,  and  thus  results  of 
necessity."  —  Schelling.  Let  us  add  that  functional  necessity  and  func- 
tional liberty  are  the  positive  and  negative  views  of  one  and  the  same 
limitation. 

It  is  causal  necessity,  or  the  presence  of  causal  constraint,  which  is  denied 
by  the  advocates  of  free-will.  It  is  inconsistent  with  and  in  strict  opposition 
to  causal  liberty,  or  the  absence  of  causal  constraint.  Its  definition  is  fairly 
stated  in  the  following :  ' '  That  being  is  necessitated  or  coerced  which  is 
determined  by  another  as  to  a  definite  mode  of  its  existence  and  action."  — 
Spinoza. 

Much  confusion  in  the  controversy  has  arisen  from  a  neglect  of  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  functional  and  the  causal. 

2  Relative  to  this  famous  scheme  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  we  would  refer  to 
the  counter  treatise  of  Roland  G.  Hazard,  of  Rhode  Island,  and  especially 
to  that  of  Albert  T.  Bledsoe,  formerly  of  the  University  of  Virginia. 


332  VOLITION. 

§  286.  The  Alps  cannot  be  overturned.  Tlie  axioms  of 
change  and  uniformity  are  steadfast  and  eternal.  The  ar- 
gument for  necessity  is  impregnable  at  these  points,  and 
so  far  is  demonstrative.  Yet  it  seems  that  libertarians  have 
constantly  tried  either  to  set  aside  or  to  undermine  these 
intuitive  truths.^  For  our  part,  we  shall  not  break  a  lance 
against  their  iron  front.  Let  us  seek  elsewhere  a  point  of 
attack.  On  looking  at  the  first  minor  premise  in  the  necessi- 
tarian argument  as  stated  in  §  280,  we  observe  that  it  is  not 
an  axiom.  It  reads  :  A  volition  is  a  change.  Clearly  this  is 
not  an  intuitive  truth,  though  it  seems  obviously,  palpably 
true,  and  is  usually  at  once  admitted  as  quite  unquestion- 
able. But  perhaps  here  is  a  joint  in  the  harness.  Let  us 
examine  it;  for  if  the  argument  be  vulnerable,  it  is  vulner- 
able only  here. 

A  volition  or  complete  act  of  will  consists,  by  general  con- 
sent, of  at  least  two  clearly  distinct  elements,  choice  and 
effort.  As  these  are  not  mutually  conditioned,  but  each  is 
operative  alone,  it  is  evident  that  they  should  be  used  in  tlie 
argument,  not  conjointly,  but  separately.  If  we  ask,  then, 
respecting  effort,  considered  not  as  a  force,  but  as  a  conscious 
act,  a  phenomenon :  Is  it  a  change  ?  the  answer  that  it  is 
consciously  a  change  or  event  seems  the  only  one  that  can  be 
given.  It  follows  that  it  is  caused,  and  so  necessitated,  or 
not  fi-ee.  Hence  liberty  is  not  to  be  found  in  this  component 
of  volition. 

Let  us  settle  at  once  the  causal  relations  involved.  The 
effort  is  obviously  the  cause  directly  of  voluntary  attention, 
and  more  remotely  of  muscular  motion ;  but  the  cause  of  the 
effort  is  not  quite  so  clear.  Setting  aside  certain  physical 
strivings,  which,  though  mere  reflex  physical  acts,  are  often 

^  The  empiricists  are  commonly  necessitarians ;  the  Intuitionists,  liberta- 
rians. The  former  could  consistently  be  libertarians  by  denying  the  univer- 
sality of  the  axioms  and  claiming  freedom  to  be  an  exceptional  experience. 
But  how  can  the  intuitionist  consistently  avoid  being  a  necessitarian,  holding, 
as  he  does,  to  the  strict  universality  of  intuitive  truth  ? 


ITS  FREEDOM.  333 

spoken  of  as  involuntary  efforts,  and  limiting  ourselves  to 
effort  as  implying  mental  determination,  we  observe  that  it 
is  caused  directly,  immediately  by  the  prevailing  desire  or 
motive  (§  257).  This  becomes  apparent  when  we  consider 
that  the  appetites  often  operate  instinctively  and  blindly, 
that  is,  without  hesitation,  consideration,  or  deliberation,  im- 
pelling towards  gratification,  causing  an  effort  to  appropriate 
their  satisfying  objects.  Such  acts  are  unintelligent.  Let 
us  particularly  remark  the  absence  of  any  intelligent  choice, 
the  guide  being  natural  instinct  or  ingrained  habit.  Again, 
we  observe  that  higher  desires  conditioned  on  intelligence, 
such  as  anger  or  curiosity,  sometimes  act  as  instinctive 
impulses,  directly  causing  a  strenuous  effort  to  attain  their 
objects,  without  any  pause  of  deliberation,  without  any  note 
of  an  alternative,  ^^ithout  any  exercise  of  choice.  There  are 
many  cases,  then,  which  agree  only  in  the  presence  of  ante- 
cedent desire  and  subsequent  effort.  On  the  other  hand,  we 
observe  that  whenever  there  is  strictly  no  desire,  there  is  no 
effort.  Hence,  by  the  double  method  of  agreement  and  dif- 
ference, we  may  inductively  infer  that  desire  is  the  cause, 
and  the  only  cause,  of  effort.^  Desires  whose  gratifications 
are  inconsistent  restrain  each  other  until  preference  is  given 
(§  275,  note).  And  when  alternative  means  to  a  desired 
end  are  contemplated,  the  effort  is  thereby  suspended  until 
choice  of  the  means  is  made.  But  when  the  desire  is  not 
hindered,  its  direct  effect  is  voluntary  effort. 

§  287.  We  will  now  attend  to  the  other  element  of  voli- 
tion, choice.  Making  this  the  minor  term  of  the  first  syllo- 
gism in  §  280,  we  have :  Choice  is  a  change,  or  event ;  and 
must  conclude  :  Choice  is  necessitated. 

But  let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  character  of  the 
notion  choice,  that  is,  the  election  of  one  of  two  available 
alternatives  (§  273).  Its  very  essence  is  freedom.  A  free 
choice  is    a    pleonastic    phrase ;    a    constrained    choice    is    a 

1  For  the  method,  see  Mill's  Logic,  bk.  ill,  ch.  8,  §  4. 


334  VOLITION. 

contradiction  in  terms.  No  liberty,  no  choice ;  no  choice, 
no  liberty.  The  question  is  not  whether  I  am  free  in  choos- 
ing, which  is  a  confusion  of  words,  but  whetlier  there  be 
really  such  a  thing  as  choice.  It  is  conceded  that  if  there 
be  liberty,  it  is  to  be  found  only  in  this  residue,  for  all  other 
mental  states  are  caused.  But  is  there  a  residue?  Is  not 
what  we  call  choice  only  a  delusive  notion?  Is  choice  real? 
To  grant  that  it  is,  is  to  grant  liberty.  To  deny  liberty,  is  to 
deny  choice. 

Now  the  argument  against  liberty  should  not  grant  in  a 
premise  what  it  proposes  to  disprove ;  it  should  not  say  that 
choice  is  a  change,  thereby  admitting  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  choice  and  liberty.  It  should  premise  hypothetically, 
thus :  If  there  be  choice,  it  is  a  change ;  and  conclude  thus : 
If  there  be  choice,  it  is  necessitated ;  and  then  add :  But 
this  consequent  is  absurd ;  choice  cannot  be  necessitated,  and 
therefore  choice  is  not,  there  is  no  such  thing. 

This  logical  form  is  unexceptionable,  but  the  truth  of  the 
conclusion  depends  upon  the  truth  of  the  j^remise :  If  there 
be  choice,  it  is  a  change.  This  premise  we  nov/'  deny,  say- 
ing :  Though  there  be  choice,  it  is  not  a  change.  If  we  can 
establish  this  denial,  the  stubborn  argument  for  necessity 
becomes  worthless  because  of  a  false  premise,  and  its  boasted 
conclusion  falls  away  unproved.  Moreover,  a  proof  that 
a  choice  is  not  a  change  will  place  choice  wholly  outside 
the  category  of  causation,  entirely  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
causal  argument  whatever.  Unless  this  be  done,  there  is  no 
escape  from  the  logic  of  necessity. 

§  288.  To  avoid  confusion  we  must  distinguish  the  act 
from  the  fact,  the  doing  from  what  is  done.  The  distinction 
is  nice,  but  real.  In  what  is  called  choosing,  a  mental  mode 
appears  in,  and  then  disappears  from,  consciousness ;  it  is  a 
psychical  phenomenon.  As  a  mental  act,  then,  a  choice  is 
a  change,  is  an  event,  and  therefore  is  caused,  is  necessitated. 
That  is  to  say,  I  am  caused  to  choose.     In  all  cases  wherein 


ITS   FBEEDOM.  335 

a  supposed  alternative  is  presented,  that  fact  necessitates 
that  there  be  a  choice,  though  not  at  all  what  the  choice 
shall  be,  not  at  all  which  alternative  shall  be  elected.  Not 
always  between  two  positive  contrary  alternatives  am  I 
necessitated  to  choose  ;  I  may  reject  both  ;  but  between  every 
positive  and  its  contradictory  negative  lies  an  alternative 
must.  I  must  go  or  stay,  I  must  accept  or  decline,  I  must 
turn  aside  or  not,  I  must  act  or  not  act ;  there  is  no  middle 
between  A  and  non-A.  So  the  mere  presence  of  recognized 
alternatives  determines  that  I  must  choose.  Even  "  not  to 
decide  is  to  decide,"  as  Bacon  says;  that  is,  I  practically 
choose  to  let  things  take  their  own  course .^ 

But  between  this  constrained  act  of  choosing  and  the  sub- 
sequent effort  to  realize  it,  lies  the  choice  as  made,  the 
intention.  Evidently  the  choosing  as  an  act  is  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  choice  as  a  fact.  That  I  decide  is  an 
act ;  that  my  decision  is  to  do  this  rather  than  that  is  merely 
a  fact.  I  must  decide,  must  elect,  but  whether  my  election 
shall  fall  on  this  or  that  is  quite  another  thing.  The  mak- 
ing an  election  is  a  movement  forward  under  causal  in- 
fluence ;  the  election  itself  is  not  a  movement  forward,  but 
merely  the  determination  in  which  one  of  two  lines  the 
movement  shall  be  made.  This  is  the  very  essence  of  choice, 
and  the  question  now  before  us  is  whether  the  determination 
in  choice  be  self-determination,  or  rather,  an  uncaused  fact, 
or  whether  it  be  caused  and  so  necessitated. 

§  289.  Now  can  we  say  of  a  choice  that  it  is  a  change  ? 
Change  from  what  to  what  ?     Two  roads  lie  before  me.     On 

1  It  is  said  that  the  Owenites  make  use  of  the  following  argument :  — 
Whoever  necessarily  goes  or  stays  is  not  a  free  agent ; 
But  every  one  necessarily  either  goes  or  stays  ; 
Therefore,  no  one  is  free. 
Whately  would  call  this  Fallacia  compositionis,  the  term,  "  goes  or  stays," 
being  used  first  divisively  and  then  collectively.     Obviously,  to  say  that  one 
must  go,  or  that  he  must  stay,  is  very  different  from  saying  that  he  must  do 
one  of  the  two  ;  hence,  ambiguous  middle. 


33G  VOLITION. 

reaching  the  fork,  shall  I  take  the  right  or  the  left  ?  I  take 
the  left.  The  taking  the  left  is  an  event ;  the  solution  of 
the  question  is  an  event;  but  the  mere  preference  of  the  left 
instead  of  the  right  is  not  an  event,  is  not  in  itself  a  change 
from  something  prior,  which  is  not  this,  to  this.  I  have  not 
at  all  altered  my  course.  In  the  line  of  progress  every  step 
is  an  event ;  but  when  there  are  alternative  paths,  my  prefer- 
ence for  one  while  believing  that  I  could  take  the  other  is 
not,  in  itself  alone  considered,  an  event.  The  change  from 
indecision  to  decision  is  caused  by  the  presence  of  alterna- 
tives between  which  I  must  choose ;  but  the  decision  in  favor 
of  A  rather  than  B  is  not  a  change  fi-om  B  to  A,  nor  from 
non-A  to  A,  for  by  the  very  terms  themselves  the  state  imme- 
diately prior  was  one  of  indecision.  Comparing  the  states  of 
mind  before  and  after,  evidently  there  is  a  change ;  but  com- 
I)aring  the  choice  exclusively  with  its  conceivable  alternative, 
evidently  there  is  no  change. 

Choice  cannot  be  defined,  since  the  notion  is  sui  generis., 
simple  and  ultimate.  We  cannot  analyze  its  content,  and 
thereby  show  that  it  bears  no  mark  of  change.  We  can  only 
dwell  attentively  upon  the  notion  as  formed  from  certain 
conscious  activities,  and  ask  ourselves  whether  it  be  in  har- 
mony with,  or  in  opposition  to,  the  notion  of  change.  A 
change  implies  an  event,  and  an  event  may  be  fairly  defined 
as  what  was  not  and  has  begun  to  be.  Noav  su2)pose  that 
some  opportunity  for  action  occurs.  Shall  I  act  or  not  act? 
I  elect  inaction.  In  this  election  there  is  no  change,  nothinor 
€omes  into  being.  Should  I  elect  action,  still  in  this  election 
there  is  no  change  from  that  to  this,  no  alteration,  but  only 
a  decision  in  favor  of  this  rather  than  that.  We  repeat  that 
the  passing  from  indecision  to  decision  is  a  change ;  but  that 
the  decision  for  this  rather  than  for  that  is  not  a  chancre. 
The  latter  is  a  choice,  and  therefore  a  choice  is  not  a  change. 

§  290.  If  upon  this  showing  it  be  granted  that  choice  is 
not  a  change,  we  may  proceed  one  ste])  beyond.      Let  us 


ITS    FREEDOM.  337 

invert  the  axiom :  Every  change  is  caused,  or  is  an  effect,  to: 
Every  effect  is  a  change.  This  is  not  admissible  as  a  formal 
logical  conversion,  but  the  latter  proposition  is  nevertheless 
true ;  for  it  is  an  analytical  judgment  a  priori.,  the  predicate 
merely  unfolding  what  is  contained  in  the  subject.  An 
effect,  to  be  an  effect,  implies  a  change,  else  nothing  would 
be  effected.  Taking  this  as  a  major,  we  have  the  following 
simple  reasoning :  — 

Every  effect  is  a  change  ; 
Choice  is  not  a  change ; 
.-.  Choice  is  not  an  effect ;  or,  is  not  caused. 

By  this,  choice  is  taken  entirely  out  of  the  category  of 
causation,  and,  like  space,  time,  unity,  identity,  infinity,  etc., 
it  stands  apart,  alone,  peculiar,  a  summum  genus,  wholly  dis- 
tinct in  kind  from  all  things  else,  and  must  therefore  be 
investigated,  not  comparatively,  but  as  an  independent  and 
original  fact. 

By  the  discovery  of  a  false  premise  in  the  necessitarian 
argument,  it  is  completely  invalidated,  and  so,  for  aught  that 
appears,  choice  and  liberty  may  be  real.  By  the  discovery 
that  the  fact  called  choice  does  not  lie  in  the  category  of 
causation,  we  are  enabled  to  reach  a  further  conclusion. 
Choice  being  uncaused,  it  is  eo  ipso  unconstrained.  Freedom 
is  the  absence  of  causal  constraint.  Hence  choice  is  free. 
In  other  words,  we  have  found  an  unconstrained,  uncaused 
fact  in  the  election  of  one  of  two  available  alternatives.  We 
have  found  freedom  in  the  fact  called  choice.  Therefore 
choice  is  real,  and  human  liberty  is  real,  and  I  am  free. 

§  291.  To  the  foregoing  discussion  we  add  a  very  brief 
consideration  of  two  important  points.  It  has  already  been 
indicated  that  freedom  is  a  postulate  of  ethics  (§  277).  It 
is  co7iditio  sine  gua  non  (not  causa  essendi)  of  responsibility. 
Without  subjective  freedom  in  action,  there  can  be  no  re- 
sponsibility for  action.     On  the  other  hand,  responsibility  is 


338  VOLITION. 

the  logical  condition  (^causa  cognoscendi)  of  freedom.  If  one 
be  responsible  for  his  conduct,  we  know  he  must  be  free  in 
determining  his  conduct.  There  must  be  liberty  of  choice 
between  available  alternatives,  otherwise  the  moral  law 
would  be  a  tyrannical  imperative,  an  expression  of  injustice 
by  demanding  the  impossible.  Whoever  admits  moral  qual- 
ity in  action,  must  admit  freedom  in  determining  the  action, 
and  for  those  who  hold  to  intuition  of  moral  law  the  argu- 
ment is  a  demonstration,  though  indirect,  and  not  an  expla- 
nation of  freedom.  Any  proof  that  there  is  right  and  wrong 
in  human  conduct  is  also  a  proof  of  human  liberty. 

§  292.  It  might  fairly  be  asked  whether  choice,  in  its 
freedom  from  causal  constraint,  be  independent  of  antece- 
dents. Not  at  all.  A  desire  for  each  available  alternative 
is  prerequisite.  A  motiveless  choice  would  be  only  casual- 
ism,  and  the  free  act  of  an  indifferent  would  be,  morally  and 
rationally,  as  worthless  as  a  preordained  activity,  or  rather 
as  a  passion  of  a  determined  will.  But  the  desire  is  merely 
conditio  sine  qua  non  (not  causa  essendi^  of  the  choice. 

Moreover,  election  occurs  only  in  view  of  reasons.  Mere 
caprice — that  is,  choice  and  action  without  regard  of  any 
reason  —  is  unknown  to  the  human  mind.  In  instinctive 
action  there  is  no  exercise  of  choice,  but  in  intelligent  ac  'ion 
there  is  choice,  and  deliberating  intelligence  furnishes  the 
ground  of  the  choice  (§§  269,  273).  Influenced  greatly  by 
desire,  the  reason  for  the  choice  may  be  a  very  poor  reason, 
a  very  weak  reason,  a  very  stupid  or  even  absurd  reason,  yet 
it  stands  as  the  reason  why  I  choose  this  rather  than  that. 
The  reason  does  not  determine  the  election  in  a  causal  sense, 
but  merely  furnishes  ground  or  occasion  for  the  determina- 
tion and  action.  Thus  it  is  that  choice  has  necessary  though 
not  determining  antecedents. 


INDEX. 


The  number  refers  to  the  page.    For  general  topics,  see  Table  of  Contents. 


Absolute  identity,  doctrine  of,  141. 
Abstraction  vs.  attention,  83. 

—  the  process  of,  described,  218. 
Action  at  a  distance,  117. 
Affection  or  love,  definition  of,  300. 
Altruism  vs.  egoism,  30(i. 
Ambition,  an  appetence,  300. 
Anatomy  of  the  brain,  31,  32  n. 

_Apperception,  modern  use  of,  79  n. 

—  definition  of,  85  n. 

Appetence,   the  word   how  used,   298, 

295  n. 
Appetite,  its  meaning,  296. 
A  priori  and  a  posteriori,  48  u. 
Aquinas,  Thomas,  on  here  and   now, 

88  n. 

—  definition  of  truth,  232  n. 
Area  of  consciousness,  64. 
Argument  for  necessity,  321. 

—  for  liberty,  332,  337. 

Aristotle,  on  the  sense  of  touch,  19  n. 

—  on  a  priori  and  a  posteriori,  48  n. 

—  on  principles,  48  n. 

—  on  definition  of  mind,  51  n. 

—  on  subject  and  object,  53  n. 

—  on  habit,  55  n. 

—  quoted  under  consciousness,  57  n. 
— ■  on  similarity,  61  n. 

—  on  certainty,  112. 

—  tabula  rasa,  118. 

—  on  substance,  133  n. 

—  on  seat  of  the  soul,  148  n. 

—  on  preference,  186  n. 

—  on  recollection,  195  n. 

—  on  Platonic  ideals,  214  n. 

—  on  common  notions,  227  n. 
— •  on  definition  of  truth,  232  n. 

—  on  the  feeling  of  belief,  247  n.,  248  n. 


Aristotle,  on  pleasure  and  pain,  250. 

—  on  expression  of  feeling,  254  n. 

—  on  sympathy,  275  n. 

—  on  the  ludicrous,  281  n. 

—  on  condition  of  desire,  290  n. 

—  oh  end  of  philosophy,  292  n. 

—  on  definition  of  happiness,  307. 
Arnold,  on  sweetness  and  light,  240  n. 
Association,  law  of,  179. 
Attention,  definition  of,  79. 

—  etymology  of,  79  n. 

—  as  a  faculty,  80  n. 

—  expectant,  82. 

—  plural,  83. 

Augustine,  on  recollection,  195. 

—  on  utility,  282. 
Automatic  muscular  action,  28. 

Bacon,  on  classification  of  error,  237  n. 

—  on  value  of  truth,  238. 

—  on  humility,  287  n. 

Bain,  on  mental  and  bodily  states,  44  n. 

—  on  law  of  relativity,  60  n. 

—  on  materialism,  140  n. 

—  on  concomitance,  143  n. 

—  on  monism,  144  n. 

—  on  retention,  190. 

—  on  brain  action,  204  n. 

—  on  pleasure  and  pain,  250  n.,  251  n. 

—  on  the  caress,  261  n. 

—  on  sweetness,  262  n. 

—  on  expression  of  joy,  273  n. 

—  on  the  tender  affection,  274  n. 

—  on  the  ludicrous,  281  n. 
Baldwin,  on  apperception,  85  n. 

—  on  the  idea  of  space,  101  n. 
Bascom,   on    spontaneity    of   volition, 

327  n. 

339 


340 


INDEX. 


Beauty,  a  sensuous  sentiment,  277. 

—  detiuitious  of,  279. 
Belief,  the  doctrine  of,  247. 

—  opposite  of  doubt,  248,  283  n. 
Bell,  Sir  Charles,  on  nerves,  27  n. 

—  on  expression  of  the  ludicrous,  282  n. 
Berkeley,  his  idealism,  i;i4. 

—  on  vision  of  distance,  172  n. 

—  on  symbolic  thought,  230  n. 
Bernstein,   on    objects    of    perception, 

15  n. 
Binaural  audition,  experiment  on,  9. 
Binocular  vision,  experiment  on,  12. 
Blackie,  Four  Phases,  7  n. 
Boschovich,  on  substance,  133  n. 
Bowne,  on  materialism,  137. 
Brain,  the  object  of  perception,  15. 

—  anatomy  of,  31,  32  n. 
Brown-Scquard,  on  pain,  200. 
Buliier,  on  primary  truth,  112  n. 

Calderwood,  on  idealism,  130  n. 

—  on  will  and  causation,  325  n. 
Capacity,  a  power  to  be  changed,  55. 
Cardaillac,  on  area  of    consciousness, 

05  n. 
Carpenter,  on  muscular  sense,  22  n. 

—  on  a  case  of  reflex  action,  28  n. 

—  on  unconscious  cerebration,  34  n. 

—  on  attention,  82  n. 

—  on  correlation  of   nerve  and  mind 

force,  141  n. 
Cause  and  effect,  their  nexus,  31G  n. 
Cerebral  nerves,  27. 

—  hemispheres,  the  cortex,  32. 
Cerebration,  unconscious,  .33. 
Cerebro-spinal  system,  2(). 
Certainty  as  a  criterion  of  truth,  70, 

234  n. 

—  the  feeling  of,  247. 

Change,  a  condition  of  consciousness, 

(iO. 
Characteristics  of  pure  intuitions,  110. 
Choice,  its  essential  character,  333. 

—  its    conditioning   antecedents,    314, 

338. 

—  not  a  change,  335. 

Cicero,  on  the  meaning  of  faculty,  55  n. 

—  (Ill  the  beau  ifleal,  214  n. 

—  III!  the  ludicrous,  281  n. 


Cicero,    on    appetite,    its   wide    sense, 

290  n. 
Classification,  the  process  of,  223. 
Clifford,  on  the  organ  of  sight,  15  n. 

—  on    the    wide    meaning    of    feeling, 

239  n. 
Cognition,   definition   and  distribution 

of,  73. 
— •  general  discussion  of,  77.  ■**^ 

—  condition  of  other  faculties,  79.    -/O 

—  correlative  to  feeling,  239.  • 

—  law  of  the  correlation,  241. 
Coleridge,  on  expectant  attention,  82. 

—  on  sensation  and  perception,  92  n. 

—  on  fancy  as  a  source  of  error,  2.38  n. 
Color-blindness,  12  n.        t' 
Comparison  the  basis  of  jiidgment,  78. 
Comte,  definition  of  forc^^8  n.,  328  n. 

—  on  idealism,  135. 
Conation,  the  meaning  of,  72  n. 
Conception,  the  process  of,  219. 
Condillac,  sensationalism,  119  n. 
Conditio  essendi  et  cognoscendi,  128  n., 

338. 
Condition,  definition  of,  59  u. 
Conscience,  definition  of,  308. 
Consciousness,  its  etymology,  56  n. 


4 


—  its  content,  57. 

—  definitions  of,  58  n. 

—  its  conditions,  59. 

—  its  limitations,  02. 

—  area  of,  CA. 

—  modes  of,  72. 

—  ancient  distriliution,  73  n. 

—  of  self,  a  feeling,  245. 

—  of  freedom  of  will,  322. 
Control  of  feelings,  252. 
Cousin,  on  consciousness,  56  n. 

—  on  pure  reason,  130  n. 

—  on  the  beau  ideal,  214  n. 

—  on  illegitimate  success,  292  n. 

—  on  consciousness  of  liberty,  324  n. 
Criterion  of  pure  truth,  113,  2;U  n. 
Crucdty,  a  malevolence,  304. 
Curiosity,  an  appetence,  2J)9. 
Cycle,  the  historical,  220  n. 

Darwin,  on  expression  of  emotion,  2.%n. 

—  on  expression  of  the  liuHcrous,  282  n. 

—  on  expression  of  ((intciupt,  285  u. 


INDEX. 


341 


Delboeiif,  on  psycho-physics,  39. 
Denioeritus,  on  the  sense  of  touch,  18  n. 
Denomination  or  naming,  221. 
Descartes,  on  mind  and  matter,  45  n. 

—  on  thought  and  extension,  51  n. 

—  on  the  true,  112  n.,  114  n. 

—  on  origin  of  ideas,  122. 

—  his  idealism,  133. 

—  on  seat  of  the  soul,  149  n. 

—  on  imagination,  200  n. 

—  on  dreaming,  206  n. 

—  on  criterion  of  truth,  2'M  n. 

—  his  enthymeme  modified,  246  n. 

—  on  pleasure  and  pain,  251  n. 
Desire,  defined  and  distributed,  74,  289. 

—  cause  of  voluntary  effort,  317  n.,  332. 
Determinism,  doctrine  of,  318. 

—  vs.  necessity,  318  n. 
Difference,  shock  of,  61,  243. 
Diffusion  of  feeling,  253. 
Disposition,  its  varieties,  267. 
Distraction  vs.  attention,  82. 
Doubt,  negative  of  belief,  248. 

—  a  painful  feeling,  283  n. 
Dualism,  the  doctrine  of,  144. 

—  argument  in  favor  of,  146. 

Edwards,  scheme  of  free  agency,  329. 

—  definition  of  liberty,  329  n. 
Ego  vs.  non-ego,  52. 
Egoism  vs.  altruism,  306. 
Empirical  science,  48. 
Empiricism,  the  doctrine  of,  118. 

—  reply  to,  120. 

Envy,  a  malevolence,  304. 
Error,  its  primary  cause,  236. 
Experience  and  experiment,  95  n. 
Extension  given  in  vision,  13. 

—  opinions  of  Miiller  and  others,  13  n. 

—  and  intension,  law  of,  222. 
External  reality  perceived,  96. 

Facts  of  consciousness,  68. 

—  their  importance,  71. 
Faculty,  a  power  to  change,  55. 
Faith,  its  elements  stated,  285. 
Familiarity,  the  basis  of  memory,  244. 
Faraday,  on  humility,  287  n. 
Fatigue,  the  sensation  of,  260. 

Fear,  a  painful  emotion,  270. 


Fear,  its  organic  effects,  271. 
Fechner's  law  of  sensation,  39. 
Feeling,  defined   and    distributed,  74, 
256. 

—  extent  of  meaning,  239  n. 

—  law  of  correlation,  241. 
Ferrier,  D.,  on  blindness,  11  n. 

—  on  functions  of  brain,  33  n. 

—  on  mind  and  brain,  138  n. 

—  on  duality  of  brain,  147  n. 
Fichte's  nihilism,  135  n. 
Free  agency,  scheme  of,  329. 
Freedom,  the  sentiment  of,  284. 

—  a  postulate  of  philosophy,  319. 

—  a  postulate  of  ethics,  319,  337. 

—  presumption  in  favor  of,  .321. 

—  objective  vs.  subjective,  330. 

—  argument  in  favor  of,  332,  337. 
Fritsch    and    Hitzig,    experiments    of, 

33  n. 

Gassendi,     illustration     of     retention, 

191  n. 
Generalization,  process  of,  219. 
General  truth,  of  three  kinds,  115. 
Generic  powers,  scheme  of,  72. 
Genesis  of  mediate  perceptions,  159. 
George,  Dr.  L.,  on  temperaments,  266  n. 
Gibbon,  on  Julian's  attention,  84  n. 
Gmelin,  on  odors,  2  n. 
Goclenius,  on  sensoriura,  34  n. 
Goethe,  in  illustration  of  consciousness, 

77  n. 

—  on  multiplicity  of  suggestion,  182  n. 

—  on  fancy,  208  n. 

—  on  wonder,  270  n. 
Gratitude,  a  moral  sentiment,  288. 
Gray  and  white  nerve  substance,  31. 
Gurney  on  hallucination,  203  n.,  207  n. 

Habit,  law  of,  55  n.,  85. 

Hall,  Dr.  Marshall,   on  reflex  action, 

29  n. 
Hamilton,  on  the  object  perceived,  15  n. 

—  on  touch,  its  modifications,  18  n. 

—  on  sul)Stance,  51  n.,  133  n. 

—  on  consciousness  and  extension,  51  n. 

—  on  subject  and  object,  53  n. 

—  on  definition  of  consciousness,  58  n. 

—  on  latent  activities,  66  n. 


842 


INDEX. 


Hamilton,  on  facts  of   consciousness, 
68  n.,  247  n. 

—  on  content  of  consciousness,  71  n. 

—  on  division  of  faculties,  73  n. 

—  on  plural  attention,  84  n. 

—  on    immediate    ijerceptiou,    99    n., 

145  n. 

—  on  externality,  102  n.,  103  n. 

—  on  innate  forms,  124  n. 

—  on  idealism,  136  n. 

—  on  mind  and  matter,  138  n. 

—  on  seat  of  the  soul,  149. 

—  on  representation,  151  n. 

—  on  association,  178  n. 

—  on  retention,  190  n. 

—  on  imagination  v><.  memory,  199. 

—  on  conception  and  naming,  221. 

—  on  criterion  of  truth,  234  n. 

—  on  tedium,  242  n. 

—  on  feeling  and  desire,  245. 

—  on  pleasure  and  pain,  249  n. 

—  on  distribution  of  feelings,  256  n. 

—  on  the  sublime,  280  n. 

—  on  the  ludicrous,  281  n. 

—  on  cognition  vs.  conation,  289  n. 

—  on  will  as  a  balance,  314  n. 

—  on  consciousness  of  liberty,  322  n. 
Happiness,  definition  of,  306  n.,  307. 
Hartley,  on  law  of  transference,  181  u. 

—  on  association,  186  n. 
Hartmanu,  on  the  unconscious,  66  n. 
Hearing,  its  organ  and  excitant,  7. 

—  its  percept,  sound,  8. 

—  its  percept  intercranial,  9. 

—  analogous  with  seeing,  14. 
Helmholtz,  on  nervous  rate,  36,  40. 

—  on  native  and  empirical,  101  n. 
Helvetius,   illustration    of    preference, 

185  n. 
Herbart,  on  thought,  217  n. 

—  on  pleasure  and  pain,  251  n. 
Hering,  on  psycho-physics,  39. 
H(irscliel,  on  external  reality,  130  n. 
Hobbes,   example  of  suggestion,  180  n. 

—  on  cliange  of  sensation,  242  n. 

—  on  the  ludicrous,  281  n. 

—  on  definition  of  liberty,  329  n. 
Honor    and    dishonor,    sentiments    of, 

285,  2m. 
Horace,  on  wonder,  269  n. 


Horace,  on  sympathetic  feeling,  276  n. 
Houdin's  automatic  skill,  30  n. 
Humboldt,  on  delicacy  of  smell,  3  n. 
Hume,  on  idealism,  134. 

—  on  external  reality,  158  n. 

—  on  tlights  of  imagination,  210  n. 

—  on  the  question  of  freedom,  319. 

—  on  definition  of  liberty,  329  n. 
Humility,  the  sentiment  of,  287. 
Hunger,  the  typical  appetite,  297. 
Huxley's  materialism,  141  n. 

—  on  freedom  to  do  right,  320  n. 

Idea,  note  on  the  word,  154  n. 
Idealism,  various  forms  of,  133. 

—  self-contradictory,  1.35. 
Illusion  and  delusion,  161  n. 
Imagination,  definition  of,  198. 

—  distinguished  from  memory,  199. 
Immediate  perception,  96. 
Individual,  definition  of,  228  n. 
Inference  (\s.  intuition,  79. 
Inhibition  of  emotion,  268. 
Innate  truth,  122. 

Instincts,  the  physical,  29. 

—  the  psycho-i)hysical,  253. 

—  the  psychical,  294. 
Intension,  the  law  of,  222. 
Interest  vs.  duty,  305. 
Introspection,  the  power  of,  106. 
Intuition,  kinds  of,  87. 

—  derivation  of  the  word,  87  n. 
Intuitionism,  122. 

—  extreme  view  of,  124. 

—  prevalent  view,  125. 

—  self-contradictory,  126  n. 

—  preferred  view,  12(). 

Irving,' Washington,  on  sorrow,  272  n. 

Janet,  on  error  of  Benthamites,  307  n. 
Jealousy,  a  malevolence,  303. 
Johnson,  Dr.,  on  tlie  ludicrous,  281  n. 
JoiifTroy,  on  attention,  84  n. 
Joy  and  sorrow,  tlieir  expression,  272. 
Judgments,  of  two  kinds,  224. 

Kant,  sensus  fixus  et  vagus,  1. 

—  on  a  priori  et  a  posteriori,  48  n. 

—  on  noumena  and  plienomena,  49  n. 

—  on  division  of  faculties,  73  n. 


INDEX. 


o4o 


Kant,  on  motion,  102  n. 

—  oil  strict  universality,  114. 

—  ou  forms  of  cognition,  123. 

—  on  substance,  133  n. 

—  on  idealism,  134. 

—  ou  Hume,  134  n. 

—  on  seat  of  the  soul,  149. 

—  ou  errors  of  sense,  IGl  n. 

—  on  Plato's  imagination,  210  n. 

—  on  criterion  of  truth,  233. 

—  on  intelligent  questions,  233  n. 

—  on  knowing  and  feeling,  241  n. 

—  on  pleasure  and  pain,  250  n.,  251  n. 

—  on  distribution  of  feelings,  256  n. 

—  on  the  ludicrous,  281  n. 

—  on  desires  as  i^ains,  291  n. 

—  on  the  will  as  the  ego,  309  n. 

—  on  volition  as  a  free  cause,  324  n. 
Kirehmanu,  on  the  ego,  53  n. 

Ladd,  on  physiological  psychology,  35  n. 

—  on  psycho-physics,  40. 

—  on  introspection,  46. 

—  on  seeing  depth,  1G5  n. 
Language  of  feeling,  255  n. 
Latent  activities  of  mind,  65. 

Le  Conte,  on  retinal  inversion,  168  n. 
Leibnitz,  on  mind  and  matter,  45  n. 

—  on  area  of  consciousness,  65  n. 

—  on  certainty  of  consciousness,  70  n. 

—  on  reply  to  Locke,  122. 

—  on  innate  truth,  123. 

—  on  substance,  133  n. 

—  on  symbolic  thinking,  230  n. 
Lewes,  on  dynamical  presence,  149  n. 
Liberty,  argument  in  favor  of,  .3.32,  .3.37. 
Limitation,  law  of,  80. 

Limits  of  consciousness,  62. 
Local  signs,  Lotze  on,  19  n. 
Localization  of  sense-centres,  32. 
Locke,  on  substance,  50  n. 

—  on  sources  of  knowledge,  118. 

—  ou  limits  of  imagination,  200  n. 
Longet,  on  dreams  of  sweets,  262  n. 
Longinus,  on  recollection,  195  n. 
Lotze,  on  local  signs,  19  n. 

—  ou  apperception,  79  n. 

—  on  spirit  as  an  entity,  147  n. 

—  on  localizing  percepts,  176  n. 

—  on  self-consciousuGss,  24(1  n. 


Lotze,  on  temperament,  266  n. 
Love  and  jealousy,  emotions  of,  273. 

—  or  affection,  definition  of,  300. 
Lustre,  the  sensation  of,  265. 

Macaulay,  on  creative  ability,  203  n. 
Magliabecchi's  memory,  196  n. 
Malebranche,  on  attention,  86. 

—  on  truth,  2.37. 

—  on  pursuit  of  truth,  284  n. 
Mausel,  on  the  object  perceived,  15  n. 

—  on  forms  of  cognition,  124. 

—  on  the  individual,  228  n. 

—  on  symbolic  thought,  231  n. 

—  on  freedom  as  a  postulate,  319  n. 

—  on  consciousness  of  liberty,  .322  n. 
Materialism,  the  doctrine  of,  136. 
Matter  and  mind,  logically  defined,  50. 
McCosh,  on  mind  and  matter,  45  n. 

—  on  self-evidence,  129  n. 

Mediate  cognition  and  inference,  150  n. 
Mediate  percej^tion,  92,  158. 

—  genesis  of,  159. 
Memory  defined,  187. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  on  consciousness,  58  n. 

—  on  latent  activities,  66  n. 

—  ou    consciousness    and    philosophy, 

71  n. 

—  his  power  of  attention,  83  n. 

—  on  action  and  passion,  97  n. 

—  on  empiricism,  119,  122  n. 
Milton,  cited,  149  u.,  154  n. 

—  on  phantasy,  204  n. 

—  on  reason  vs.  fancy,  227  n. 
Mind,  logically  defined,  50. 

—  derivation  of  the  word,  50  n. 

—  defined  a  posteriori,  51. 

—  a  unit,  75. 

Misanthropy,  a  malevolence,  .304. 
Mitchell,   Dr.,   on   the  lAautom    limb, 

174  u. 
Mnemonics,  197. 
Modes  of  consciousness,  distribution  of, 

72. 
Montaigne's  memory,  196  n. 

—  on  opinion,  249  n. 
Mood  vs.  temperament,  267. 

Motive,  as  eflScient  cause  of  effort,  293. 

—  its  meaning,  293  n. 

—  as  final  cause,  313  n. 


344 


INDEX. 


Motive,  as  weight  in  a  balance,  314  n. 
Miiller,  on  causes  of  sensation,  15  n. 

—  sketch  of,  'M'). 

—  on  externality,  101  n. 

—  on  retinal  inversion,  168  n. 

—  on  physical  effects,  205  n. 
jVIuscular  sense,  its  percept,  20. 

—  illustrations  of,  21. 

—  action,  control  of,  312. 

Nativism  vs.  experience,  101  n. 
Necessity,  of  two  kinds,  113  n. 

—  modified  view  of,  129. 

—  doctrine  of,  318. 

—  argument  in  favor  of,  321. 
Nervous  circuit,  28. 
Nihilism  of  Hume,  134. 

—  ofTFichte,  135  n. 

Non-ego  consciously  perceived,  97-99. 

Observation  and  reflection,  81. 
Occam's  law  of  parcimony,  80  n. 
Owenite  argument  for  necessity,  335  n. 

Pain  and  pleasure,  249. 
Parcimony,  Occam's  law  of,  80  n. 
Pascal,  on  distraction,  82  n. 

—  on  materialism,  138  n. 

—  on  imagination  causing  error,  236  n. 
Passivity  of  perception,  94. 
Patriotism  a  benevolence,  302. 
Percept,  the,  an  external  reality,  96. 
Perception,  defined,  91. 

—  vs.  sensation,  92  n. 

—  passivity  of,  94. 

Peripatetic  division  of  faculties,  73  n. 
Person,  definition  of,  309  n. 
Phantasy,  dreams,  203. 
Phantom  limb,  174. 
Plienonienon  defined,  49. 
Philanthropy,  a  benevolence,  303. 
Physical  effects  of  feeling,  253. 
Physiological  jjsychology  defined,  35. 

—  its  value  estimated,  42. 

—  vs.  pure  psychology,  44. 
Physiology  of  tlu^  l)rain,  .H3  n. 
Pity,  the  sentiment  of,  285. 
Plato's  theory  of  ideas,  214  n. 

—  definition  of  truth,  232  n. 

—  view  of  pleasure  and  pain,  250  n. 


Plato's  definition  of  beauty,  279. 
Pleasure  and  pain,  249. 

—  appetence  for,  299. 
Plural  attention,  83. 

Porphyry,  on  the  individual,  228  n. 
Porter,  on  the  idea,  157  n. 
Power  and  poteutial,*55. 
Powers,  scheme  of  generic,  72. 

—  scheme  of  specific,  75. 
Pre-existence  of  the  .soul,  194  n. 
Preference,  law  of,  184. 
Presentation,  definition  of,  87. 

—  vs.  representation,  88,  150. 
Priestly,  on  association,  180. 
Principles,  philosophic  meaning  of,  48  n. 
Psychology,  pure  and  mixed,  44. 

—  defined,  47. 

Psychological  judgment  vs.  inference, 

79. 
Psychometry,  40. 
Psycho-physics,  37. 
Pure  intuition  or  reason,  108. 
Pure  pain,  24,  259. 
Pursuit,  pleasure  of,  283,  292. 

Qualities  of  body,  100. 

Rate  of  nervous  propagation,  40. 
Rational  psychology,  49  n. 
Reason,  pure,  108. 
Reflection,  107. 
Reflex  action,  28. 

—  vs.  diffusion  of  feeling,  253. 
Reid,  on  the  object  perceived,  15  n. 

—  on  immediate  perception,  145  n. 

—  on  consciousness  of  liberty,  322  n. 
Relativity,  law  of,  60. 
Representation    vs.    presentation,    88, 

150. 
Repetition,  theory  of,  187. 
Retention,  theories  of,  189. 
Ril)ot,  on  German  psj'chology  of  to-day, 

36  n. 

—  on  psycho-physics,  40. 

—  on  physiological  psychology,  43. 
Richelieu's  power  ol  attention,  86  n. 

Sand,  George,  on  maternity,  301  n. 
Schelling,    on    liberty    and    necessity, 
331  n. 


INDEX. 


345 


■Scheme  of  generic  powers,  72. 

—  of  specific  powers,  75. 

—  of  feelings,  257. 

—  of  desires,  21)5. 

Sclioolmeu,  on  consciousness,  57  n. 

—  on  area  of  consciousness,  65  n. 
SL-hopenliauer's  idealism,  135. 

—  on  liberty  a  negative  notion,  323  n. 

—  on  will  as  undetermined,  325  n. 
Science  defined  and  divided,  47. 
Scott,  his  power  of  attention,  81  n. 

—  on  true  valor,  270  n. 

—  on  sorrow,  272  n. 
.Scottish  philosophy,  97  n. 
Seat  of  the  soul,  148. 

Seeing  and  hearing  analogous,  14. 
Self-perception  defined,  105. 
Seneca,  on  idea  and  image,  154  n. 
Sensation  vs.  perception,  92,  240,  258. 
Senses,  distribution  of,  1. 
Sensor  and  motor  nerves,  27. 
Sensory  vs.  sensorium,  34. 

—  the  object  immediately  perceived,  15. 
Sensus  Jixus  and  vagus,  1. 

—  vagus,  23,  258. 
—fixus,  2G0. 

Sentiment,  its  mark,  277. 
Shakspeare  cited,  0  n.,  55  n,,  142  n., 

153  n.,  185  n.,  195  n.,  203  n.,  204  n., 
205  u.,  206  n.,  207  n.,  208  n.,  212  n., 
242  n.,  271  n.,  274  n.,  275  n.,  276  n., 
284  n.,  292  n.,  300  n.,  303  n.,  306  n.- 

Shall  and  will,  316  n. 

Shelly,  on  memory  and  hope,  199  n. 

Shock  of  difference  and  similarity,  61, 
243. 

Sidgwick  on  consciousness  of  liberty, 
323  n. 

Sight,  its  organ,  its  objectivity,  10. 

—  its  primary  percept,  11. 

—  its  secondary  percept,  13. 

• —  its  analogy  to  hearing,  14. 

—  its  octave  of  colors,  14  n. 
.Similarity,  shock  of,  61,  243. 

—  law  of,  178. 

Smell,  its  organ  and  excitant,  2. 

—  Valentin  and  Humboldt  on,  3  n. 

—  proximate  cause  of,  4. 

—  classification  of,  261. 
.Sociality  an  appetence,  300. 


Space,  apprehension  of,  13  n.,  19  n. 

—  origin  of  the  notion  of,  101  n. 
Specific  powers,  scheme  of,  75. 
Spencer,  on  touch,  19  n. 

—  on  substance,  51  n. 

—  on  external  reality,  96  n. 

—  critical  of  Mill,  119  n. 

—  on  concomitance  of  mind  and  brain, 

143  n. 

—  on  mind  as  motion,  144  n. 

—  on  organized  memory,  192  n. 

—  on  perception  vs.  memory,  206  n. 

—  on  pleasure  and  pain,  251  n. 
— •  on  tlie  ludicrous,  281  n. 
Spinal  cord  and  nerves,  27. 
Spinoza,  on  sulistance,  50  n. 

—  on  aflirmation,  60  n. 

—  on  absolute  identity,  142  n. 

—  on  liberty  and  necessity,  331  n. 
Spontaneity  in  voluntary  action,  327  n. 
Stewart,    definition    of    consciousness, 

58  n. 

—  on  idealism,  136  n. 

—  on  names,  222  n. 
SubcoDscious  activities,  65. 
Subject  vs.  object,  53. 

Substance,  scholastic  definition  of,  50  n. 

—  a  necessary  idea,  132. 
Sympathetic  system,  26. 
Sympathy  and  compassion,  274. 

Tactile  corpuscles,  17  n. 
Tangibility,  the  tactile  percept,  18. 
Taste,  its  organ  and  excitants,  5. 

—  its  delicacy,  6  n. 

—  its  analogy  to  smell,  7. 

—  its  classification,  262. 
Temperament,  mood,  disposition,  266. 
Temperature,  sense  of,  24. 
Thompson,  Prof.  S.  P.,  on  audition,  10  n. 
Thomson,   Dr.   Wm.,    on    criterion    of 

truth,  2;J4  n. 
Thought,  defined  and  discussed,  216. 
Tieck,  on  the  regnant  ego,  53  n. 
Time  of  nervous  propagation,  40. 

—  of  psychic  action,  41. 
Touch,  its  organ,  17. 

—  its  primary  percept,  18. 

—  its  secondary  percept,  19. 

—  its  sensation,  261. 


340 


INDEX, 


Ti'cndeleiibiirjj,  cited  on  scienoe,  48  n. 
Truth,  detinitioiis  ol',  'iol,  'I'M  ii. 

—  the  seutiment  of,  282. 
Turcot,  on  Innate  ideas,  127  ii. 
Tyndall,  on  nund  and  matter,  45  n. 

—  on  concomitance,  142  n. 

Unconscious  cerebration,  33. 

—  activities,  G5. 

Unconsciousness  not  j^rovable,  63. 
Uh-ici,    on    consciousness    oi:    liberty, 

322  n. 

—  on  spontaneity  ol  volition,  328  n. 
Unity  of  mind,  75. 

Utility  vs.  beauty,  281. 

Varigny,  on  physiology  of  brain,  31  n. 
Vibrations  of  luminiferous  ether,  14  n. 
Volition,  ol)ject  and  elements  of,  75, 313. 

—  special  function  of,  83,  311. 

—  or  will,  defined,  309. 

—  as  an  uncaused  cause,  .324. 

—  its  freedoiu  defended,  318,  .332. 
Volney,  on  a  case  of  couching,  165  n. 

Weber,  on  circles  of  sensation,  17  n. 

—  on  muscular  sense,  22  n. 

—  on  sense  of  tonperature,  24  n. 

—  on  pure  pain,  24  n. 


'    Weber,  liis  experiments,  •'><). 

—  his  law  formulated,  37v 
Wheatstone,  on  unity  in  vision,  164  n. 

—  on  vision  of  distance,  170  n. 
White  and  gray  nervous  matter,  31. 
WiU  or  volition,  special  function  of,  85, 

311. 

—  defined,  309. 

—  its  isolation,  314  n. 
Wish  vs.  desire,  290  n. 
Wolf,  on  psychology,  49  n. 

—  on  criterion  of  truth,  234  n. 
Wordsworth,  on  immortality,  194  n. 

—  on  imagination,  209  n. 
Wonder,  an  emotion,  269. 
Wundt,  on  sight,  7  n. 

—  on  local  signs,  20  n. 

—  his  wide  research,  37. 

—  on  Fechner's  law,  39. 

—  on  the  conception  of  soul,  52  n.,  132  n. 

—  on  consciousness,  58  n. 

—  on  the  unconscious,  OG  n. 

—  on  apperception,  79  n. 

—  on  innervation,  102  n. 

—  on  vision  of  direction,  167  n. 

—  on  thought,  216  n. 

—  on  temperament,  267  n. 

—  on  consciousness  of  liberty,  324  n. 


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